


A Family Of Fire And Ice

by Imoshen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fantasy AU, Incest, M/M, Magecraft, Medieval AU, Minor Character Death, Murder, Twincest, element magics, implied Castiel/Anna, political scheming, rare pairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: For centuries, Mages were the backbone of the Kingdom of Clan Shurley. Having a Mage in the family was considered an honor.But that was Before.  King Charles of the Clan Shurley suddenly outlawed all Magecraft. Mages disappeared into the Castle's walls, never to be seen again - or they ran, as the King's twin sons Lucifer and Nicholas did.Seven years later, the King is found dead in his bed.
Relationships: Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Michael/Adam Milligan, Nick/Lucifer
Comments: 33
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hurrah to @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, who cheered me on through the writing of this. Thank youfor all those late-night-writing sessions, Mama Satan!
> 
> This was written for the 2019 SPN Rare Pair Rocks Bang.

For centuries, Mages were the backbone of the Kingdom of Clan Shurley. They were respected in times of peace and feared by enemies in times of war. After all, an opponent who can fling fire or ice at you, or move the very earth beneath your feet, is an opponent to be taken very seriously.

A Mage typically began showing signs of their Affinity early on, and were trained according to their strengths and weaknesses, and the most talented and the strongest of them usually found employ in the King’s or Queen’s service. To have a Mage in the family was considered an honor, and to have a Mage in the family who found employ at Court was a stroke of luck, because the Court paid their Mages well.

But that was Before.

No one knows exactly what happened, or if someone knows, they don’t speak about it. All everyone knows is this: King Charles of the Clan Shurley, who had been King for decades and had been known as a good and fair, if sometimes a little shrewd, ruler, has suddenly outlawed all Magecraft. Those Mages who didn’t flee the kingdom were rounded up and bound with shackles meant for those Mages who had broken the law – Before – and most of them disappeared within the Castle, never to be seen again.

The King’s own sons, the twin Mages Lucifer and Nicholas, disappeared too, and while most are convinced that they are dead, some whisper that they ran, and hid in the wilds of the mountains.

These days, everyone keeps their heads down, because a single accusation of Magecraft is enough to ruin a person’s life, and not being noticed is the easiest way to escape that fate. With many imprisoned – _or dead_ , the people whisper, _they are dead, don’t hold out hope, don’t look towards the Castle, don’t speak their names_ – who had once brought in the gold that fed the families, poverty begins to sink its claws into broader parts of society. King Charles appears in public less and less, and his people don’t hold the love for him – or for his sons - they once had.

There is still peace in the Kingdom of Clan Shurley – but beneath the calm surface, unrest starts to simmer.


	2. Chapter One - The King Is Dead

_Day One_

“The King is dead.”

The silence rings out loud over the marketplace. The usual bustling and milling of the crowd had fallen utterly silent as High Judge Anna and two royal guards approached the platform customarily used to make announcements by the Crown, and now people stare in disbelief. Anna looks down at their faces and thinks she sees a quiet relief in many eyes. She can’t quite fault them.

“Long live King Michael.”

The people echo her as is tradition, and as she steps back and lowers the short scroll she’d held up (tradition, too, and really unnecessary with this short an announcement to make, but traditions need to be observed) the low hush of many whispered conversations starts up.

Anna turns to one of the guards accompanying her and hands the scroll over to him, to be mounted on the ornate wooden display board meant for royal announcements. As the man walks away to complete his task, Anna glances up at the spires of the Castle, where just now, the flag of the late King Charles of Clan Shurley is being pulled down.

Soon enough, a new flag will fly up there, replacing the old coat of arms. Michael is King now, and as Anna begins her slow, stately walk back up to the Castle’s gate (it is impossible to walk any other way in the heavy, ornate robes of her station and office she had to don for this particular task), the guards at her back, she wonders what the future will bring.

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

Michael sits and stares.

He has done little more since signing the official announcement naming him his father’s successor. High Judge Anna had given him a sympathetic glance as she walked out of his study, closing the heavy door quietly behind her and leaving him alone in the silence of the room.

Usually, this is his sanctuary, the many books on their shelves his quiet companions during many, many hours spend working. Today, not even the large painting directly across from his desk gives him any joy.

The painting is old, now – almost ten years. It was painted before his father decided to outlaw Magecraft, and Lucifer and Nicholas stand side by side with their siblings, wearing their Mage robes. They are smiling, young and healthy, and Michael’s heart gives a painful lurch as he wonders if they even are still alive. Six years since he heard any news of them, seven since they disappeared in the middle of the night. Both of them were fierce Mages and skilled fighters, but Michael knows there are other skilled fighters out there. All it takes is one mistake.

His gaze wanders to the painted image of their father. Chuck was younger, then, too, and his hair and beard were still dark. There are lines on his face in the painting, too, but Michael can’t remember his father without these – ruling since he was barely an adult himself, and then losing his beloved wife so early and having to raise five sons alone had carved them into his skin early, but he’d laughed in those days.

The father he’d come to know in the past years didn’t laugh, seldom smiled, and his hair had slowly but surely turned more and more a dull grey.

Michael blinks as the image blurs, and only then notices the tears running down his face. He doesn’t raise a hand to wipe them away. Since he was alerted to his father’s death that morning, he hasn’t been alone, hasn’t had time to sit and come to terms with everything.

He already misses his father - not his more and more worrisome blindness to the unrest in their kingdom, not his outlandish ideas and the growing strangeness to him, not the endless arguments that never led anywhere, but the father whose deep voice is his earliest memory. The father who helped him take hist first steps, mount his first pony, who taught him how to write the first, wobbly letters.

Alone in the silence of his study, Michael sits and mourns.

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

Gabriel rests his head on Kali’s shoulder. He is numb, and so very glad he is not alone tonight.

His father is dead, the man who handed him his first flute and told him to “Play well, my dear Gabriel, and you will bring joy to the people’s hearts.”

His king is dead, the man who, with a single announcement, ruined every plan and hope Gabriel had nurtured in his heart.

He mourns the one, and yet he wants to dance on the grave of the other.

“How can I be glad he is dead, and yet wish he was still alive?” he murmurs, and Kali raises one hand to cup his face gently. Her dark eyes hold such understanding, and Gabriel feels warmed to his very bones.

“He was your father,” Kali answers, and her voice, too, is gentle and warm. “It is only right that you mourn him, no matter what the king may have done to earn your wrath. Because one is not the other, and you would not be the man you are if you only saw one side of the coin.”

Kali’s long fingers stroke through his hair, repetitive and soothing, and Gabriel turns his head and hides his face in her neck. She smells of smoke and incense, his sweet goddess with her spine of hammered steel, the woman who held him together when he thought he was going to shatter like so much glass.

She holds him now, too, as he breaks and cries for the father he lost too early.

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

Raphael works in silence.

He will not mourn his father until the questions surrounding his death are answered. Because Raphael does not believe his father died of sickness or age. He is a Healer, and he knows a sickness does not work as whatever his father suffered from during the last years worked. Too many things do not add up, but he dares not talk to anyone about his suspicions – and his thoughts are turning in circles. He has thought the same thoughts too often, stared at his own writing for too long, and he knows he won’t see the hint he needs even if he stares straight at it.

He doesn’t have the answers, yet – or maybe he has, and hasn’t asked the right question. So he sits in silence in his own study, surrounded by the tools and knowledge of his trade, and writes down everything he saw, everything he heard, as detailed as he can. Maybe he will find someone he can trust with his suspicion, someone who finds the answer within all the facts.

Raphael will not mourn, but every now and then he has to pause and wipe the tears away when they blur his vision too much.

_The King is dead. Long live the King._

_Day Two_

News travel fast, the people say, and these news are carried into every corner of the Kingdom on fast horses, and by the traveling merchants who journey from village to village to sell their goods. By the next day, they have spread all through the Kingdom, even to a small village in the mountains, where the people are a close-knit group and strangers are eyed warily.

From there, they travel with a single person, and to a lone cabin hidden deep in the woods.

Nicholas, third-eldest son of the late King Charles and one of the few remaining free Mages, calls out the obligatory “It’s me!” even before he pushes the door to their home open. His twin is known to shoot first and ask questions later, and Nick has learned long ago to announce himself when he returns.

Lucifer peers around the wall that sections off their bedroom, blue eyes worried.

“You sound off,” is his greeting. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Nick answers as he hangs up the heavy cloak with its big hood. Even if the people of the village might know who they are, and wouldn’t dream of selling them out, there are always travelers to take into consideration. He has no desire to kill anyone, but he has even less desire to be dragged back to the Castle he once called home in chains. “Sit down, I heard news.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

Nick nods, sitting down at their table as Lucifer fetches a jug of water and two cups and sits down across from him, pouring for them both. Nick thanks him with a smile and drains his first cup greedily before speaking again. The walk from the village to their hidden home is long, and the day is warm.

“Father is dead.”

Lucifer stares. “Come again?”

“Father is dead.” Nick shakes his head. “There was an official announcement made, apparently. Considering the distances, I’d say he died a day ago, maybe two.”

Lucifer echoes his twin’s headshake. “I can’t… no. No, that’s… _how_?”

“I don’t know. No one does, or if they do, they certainly didn’t make that part official.” Nick reaches over the table and takes Lucifer’s hand in his. His twin’s skin is cool to the touch, a sign his emotions are high and his magic pulling at the reigns, and Nick relocates to Lucifer’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. Lucifer embraces him immediately, trembling. “I don’t believe it.”

“Me neither at first,” Nick admits. “They’ve tried elaborate plots before to try and find us. But this… this is too big to be a plot, Luci. News like that could destabilize the whole kingdom, and even Father wouldn’t risk that just to find us.”

“Michael would,” Lucifer insists with a growl. “He’d go that far.”

Nick doesn’t answer immediately. He plays with his twin’s hair, listens to him breathe, and knows what they’ll do even before they’ve spoken about it. There really is only one option to be certain.

“If he died two days ago,” Lucifer finally says, calmer again with Nick in his arms, “then we’d have three days, including today, until they light his pyre.”

“We’d need to get a look at the body they place up there,” Nick counters, tugging softly at a strand of hair. “They can wrap anyone in expensive shrouds and set them ablaze.”

“I know,” Lucifer runs a hand down Nick’s back and chuckles. “Are you up to infiltrating a castle with me, Nicky?”

Nick laughs and cups his twin’s face with both hands. “I’d be up to infiltrating Hell itself with you, Luci.”

Lucifer grins, and the expression sends a hungry shiver down Nick’s spine. “But first,” he murmurs, smiling as he watches Lucifer’s eyes darken, “first, greet me properly, big brother.”

“As you wish, my Mage.” Lucifer tugs Nick closer gently and kisses him, and Nick sighs and opens his mouth for Lucifer.

He’s home.


	3. Chapter Two – Preparations

_Raphael – Day Two_

There are hundreds of small decisions that have to be made with every funeral pyre. Which wood to use for the pyre, which fabric for the shroud, which flowers, which herbs, all according to the deceased’s station in life, the time of year they passed, and – once upon a time – their Mage status.

Raphael is a Healer, he has done this often enough for those who died in this castle of sickness, of injuries or of old age and who had no one who was willing or able to do it for them. He considers it a part of his duty to make sure those who were under his care go into that final good-bye the way they deserve.

Making those hundreds of decisions when the one to go on the pyre is his own father, however… it proves harder than Raphael had believed possible, and that is with both the knowledge of what their father wanted, and he strict traditions he has to observe. Some decisions are taken out of his hands because of those, like the fact that his father will be wrapped in his own flag for a shroud, but there are still so many things to do, so many people to talk to. And at the back of his mind, Raphael continues to think about the why of his father’s death, a question that didn’t let him sleep the past night. He suspects none of them have.

“I have the list of flowers we can choose from, Raphael.”

Jessica’s warm voice stirs Raphael from where he’d been staring at his own list in an exhausted stupor. He smiles at his young assistant gratefully.

“Thank you, Jessica. Now then, let us see what combinations of wood and flowers and herbs we are allowed to choose from, yes?”

Jessica smiles back and nods, spreading her list out next to the others on one of Raphael’s work benches. She uses clean stone bowls to flatten down the edges and sets down a clean sheet of paper next to it, ready to take notes. Raphael takes a deep breath and shoves all the questions he has aside to concentrate on his task.

_Nicholas and Lucifer – Day Two_

“This feels so strange,” Nick murmurs. He just finished packing up their supplies for the journey back to the place they once called home – mostly dried vegetables, smoked meat and flatbread, all things that can be eaten on horseback. They need to be able to travel fast.

“It does,” Lucifer agrees from where he’d been busy rolling changes of clothing up tightly and storing it in their saddle bags. “And I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing, either, but on the other hand I need to know.”

Nick carries the bundles of food over to store them in the saddle bags. “I do, too,” he admits. “I still don’t believe it. Father wasn’t old enough to die yet, and if he’d been ill, or injured… it would have been talked about, no matter what. That no one seems to know what he died of…”

Lucifer hums agreement, watching his twin pack the bundles away. “I’m still leading you straight into danger,” he murmurs, “and I’d sworn I’d protect you.”

Nick chuckles, lightly brushing his shoulder against Lucifer’s. “I can take care of myself,” he tells his brother, “and if you think even for a heartbeat that I’ll let you go alone, you’re insane.”

“We barely made it out seven years ago,” Lucifer reminds him. “And that was with the advantage of no one knowing we were running on our side. This time, they’ll guess we’re coming, and the gates will be closely guarded.”

Nick shivers at the memory of their mad flight through the dark city. They hadn’t been the only ones running that night, other Mages trying to escape before they disappeared into the prison cells, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the panic he’d felt, the sense of unreality as they climbed over a dark section of the city wall with nothing to their name but the clothes they wore and the hastily packed backpacks, and ran away from the only home they’d known to that day.

“We are better prepared this time. There will be a lot of visitors,” he tries to soothe them both. “A lot of people will want to see the pyre, for whatever reason. We can make it in, and out again, without being noticed among the masses.”

“If he’s truly dead,” Lucifer whispers. “If this isn’t an elaborate trap.”

Nick turns and cups his twin’s face in both hands. “Do you truly believe they’d go that far?” he asks quietly. Part of him understands – the thought that their father is dead, that they’ll never get an explanation for all of this, never again see Chuck laugh, it hurts somewhere deep inside. Far easier to believe it’s a lie, a trap to see if they can be lured out of hiding.

Lucifer is silent for long moments, looking at Nick with tired ice-blue eyes.

“No,” he finally admits, sounding pained. “No, they wouldn’t. The risk is too high, you’re right.”

Nick leans in for a chaste kiss. “I know we need to see him to truly believe it,” he murmurs, almost against Lucifer’s mouth. Lucifer nods, resting their foreheads together for a moment.

“How much is left?”

“Weaponry,” Nick replies, stroking his fingers over Lucifer’s cheeks. “Bedding. And the horses’ tack.”

“Good,” Lucifer breathes, and then he’s cupping Nick’s face in his hands, mirroring his twin, holding him still for a long kiss. “We have time for this, then.”

Nick sighs and sinks into Lucifer, mouthing at his jaw. “Yes,” he agrees.

Lucifer’s touch is gentle but insistent, his need to touch and feel a palpable thing between them. Nick yields to his twin, his lover, lets Lucifer guide him backwards and onto their bed. They keep kissing, only parting to strip their tunics off each other. Lucifer pulls Nick close again immediately after, trailing kisses down his twin’s throat as Nick reaches down to unlace both their pants and tug them open far enough so he can reach in and pull out both their cocks. Lucifer moans at the touch and rolls himself further over Nick, rolling his hips a little. Nick echoes the moan, wrapping a leg around Lucifer as he rocks up against him.

It’s slow and intimate, Nick wrapped around Lucifer and Lucifer pressing his lover down into their bed. They don’t speak, don’t have to. Instead, they keep kissing, just as slow and sinuous as the movement of their hips. Nick leaves marks from his nails on Lucifer’s back, feels his twin’s nails bite into his own shoulders as they finally come, spilling hot and wet between them.

They don’t move far. Lucifer finds a piece of cloth and holds it out with a smile, Nick laughs softly and calls a little water from a jug on the table to wet it, and then shivers when Lucifer wipes their bellies with it. “Ah, cold!”

“I’ll warm you up again,” Lucifer promises, pulling the furs up and over them. He tugs Nick back into the curve of his body, and Nick sighs and wraps himself around his twin again.

“We’ll make it,” he promises to both of them. Lucifer hums, but remains silent. He tucks Nick’s head beneath his chin and holds him close as they rest.

Tomorrow, they’ll saddle their horses and leave.

He hopes his twin will be right.

_Michael – Day Three_

_Life certainly does go on_ , Michael muses, absently rubbing the end of his pen against his mouth as he stares at the numbers on the scroll in front of him. He’s been trying to bring order to the mess that is his father’s desk for the past day and a half, finally giving up on doing it by himself earlier this morning. He called in his trusted secretary to help him, and they’ve begun to try and make sense of all the different lists and tallies and numbers and reports.

It paints a picture that disturbs Michael more and more.

He never agreed on the Mage Ban, never quite understood his father’s reasons for it, but he finally stopped arguing about it because every time he (or anybody else) did, his father became utterly unreasonable and downright hostile.

Now, he understands it even less.

The Ban has been in effect for almost seven years. Before it went into effect, their kingdom saw a steady income from the many trade routes passing through their lands, both by way of tariffs and by way of the locals selling and buying to and from the travelling tradesmen. Their farmers harvested more than was needed, and a lot of the surplus was sold outside their borders. In short, while there certainly were people who had more and people who had less, there was no outright poverty.

Michael only has information covering half a year, everything else is already in the archives, but the picture that information paints is one that worries him.

The number of recorded tradesmen crossing their borders has dropped steadily, beginning with a sharp decrease in the months just after the Ban took effect and Mages were imprisoned (or fled, and Michael still secretly hopes more of them escaped than were imprisoned. Both his father and Metatron kept utter silence on that topic, and Michael didn’t dare ask too much).

By now, only a handful of traders still pass through their borders, which has created a noticeable dent in their income – one, he notices, that Zachariah tried to buffer via raised taxes. He frowns. These should have passed through the Council, and Michael doesn’t remember that topic ever coming up.

“Gadreel, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” His aide and trusted friend steps out from between the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, pen and paper in hand as well. Michael smiles tiredly at the familiar sight.

“Do you remember if there was ever a mention of tax raises in the Council sessions after the Mage Ban took effect?”

Gadreel frowns, staring off into the middle distance for a moment. Michael waits patiently – Gadreel has an impressive memory, but what Michael just asked spans seven years and quite a few sessions. Finally, Gadreel shakes his head.

“I will check the transcripts if you can write down the dates in question, but I don’t remember that topic ever being mentioned.”

“Please do,” Michael agrees. “Because I can’t remember it, either. Yet there are notes of them being raised not once, but several times.”

Gadreel’s frown deepens. “That’s… Michael, that’s illegal. Even for the King.”

“It’s not my father’s signature beneath the latest decree, Gad.” Michael stares down at the scrawled name. “It’s Zachariah’s.”

“He shouldn’t have had the authority to do that,” Gadreel murmurs.

Michael nods. He writes down the dates of the tax increases as they show up in this record, but he has the suspicion he will find nothing on them in the Council transcripts. Something has been going very wrong, and for quite a number of years.

And even with the raised taxes, their income is steadily decreasing. Michael chews on his lip as he considers the matter and realizes something he overlooked before. Of course, their farmers would have more trouble these days – no Earth Mages to tell them where the soil is fertile, and which fields need a year of rest before they can be expected to bring a good harvest again. No Earth Mages to prepare the fields, turn over the soil so the seeds can be brought out. No Water Mages to make sure the plants don’t dry out if it doesn’t rain.

Michael, fool that he is, only considered the Mage Ban with the eye of the General and forgot every other aspect in which Mages were important to their kingdom.

Now he sees the wider results of the Ban, and deep down in his heart, he begins to wonder who wanted their people to suffer to this degree.

_Castiel – Day Three_

The Commander of the Castle Guard pauses to greet the guard stationed outside the King’s study before knocking once sharply on the wooden door.

King Michael’s voice bids him enter, and Castiel pushes the door open and steps into the room, sinking down on one knee almost before the door has fallen shut again behind him. He keeps his eyes carefully on the floor.

“Your Majesty.”

“Stand up, Commander,” King Michael orders, and he sounds tired. Castiel carefully raises his eyes to test the waters, and when no swift rebuke comes, he straightens but remains on one knee for now, looking around.

The King is sitting at his desk, candlelight throwing shadows onto his face. He looks as exhausted as his voice sounded, and Castiel keeps the frown of his face by sheer experience and will.

Michael doesn’t, frowning at Castiel’s continued kneeling. “Castiel, we are alone. There’s no need to keep to whatever kind of protocol my father had in place. Please, stand. Better yet, come here and have a seat.”

To not comply with such an explicit invitation would be an insult, and Castiel knows better than to insult the King. He stands and walks over to where Michael has comfortable chairs in front of his desk, selecting one to sit down in.

“You called for me.”

“Yes, and I have a task for you – specifically for you, Castiel. Not the Guard itself.”

Michael’s green eyes look darker in the candlelight as he holds Castiel’s gaze, and suddenly, he’s not the King anymore but the man Castiel served with at the start of his career. He can feel something inside him relax a little.

“How can I help?” he asks, and sees something in Michael relax a little, too. _How hard must it be_ , Castiel wonders absently, _to suddenly be King and have that responsibility rest on his shoulders?_

“The pyre for our father will burn in two days,” Michael starts, and Castiel nods. It is tradition that the King be placed on his pyre at dawn on the fifth day, and the pyre will burn through the day, usually also through the night and into the dawn. Michael takes a deep breath.

“I want you to keep an eye out for my brothers,” he tells Castiel quietly. “Nicholas and Lucifer. If they ever return here – if they still can – it will be for the pyre.”

Castiel inclines his head. “Should I bring them to the Castle if I find them?”

“Yes.” Michael closes his eyes. “Bring them here – do not harm them, try to keep it from becoming a public spectacle, but bring them here, please.”

“I will,” Castiel promises quietly, already thinking on how he can possibly keep his promise. The city has many gates, and he cannot be in every place at once. “May I ask a select few people for help?”

Michael nods. “Hand-pick them, Castiel.”

“Of course.”

_Nicholas and Lucifer – Day Three_

Lucifer and Nick started their journey early that morning, before dawn. The Mayor of the small village they live close to and a few of the other villagers joined them, all on horseback. Time is short.

Fergus MacLeod didn’t ask if they were sure, just looked them over once, slowly. Nick knows the man noticed the full quiver on his back, the swords strapped to their horses’ saddles, but he didn’t say a word, merely nodded.

Now, they are travelling the fastest route, accompanied only by the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves. No one is in the mood for idle conversation.

_Gabriel – Day Three_

Gabriel takes a deep breath before knocking on his brother’s door.

Michael spend the past two days in his study, according to Kali, who’d talked to Gadreel and found out Michael is very concerned with the Mage Ban and its effects all of a sudden.

“Come in!” his brother’s voice invites, which means the second, inner door is open. When both doors are closed, no one in the hallway can hear a word of what’s said inside, and Gabriel takes the time to close both doors before venturing further into the study.

“Michael?” He doesn’t see his brother at his desk, and the bookcases are a labyrinth he doesn’t want to walk through right now.

“Just a moment, Gabriel!”

Gabriel smiles despite his heavy heart as he sits down at his brother’s desk, glancing at the spread out sheets of paper out of habit. He frowns when he notices the numbers, getting engrossed quickly. He startles when Michael lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, that happened to me, too,” his big brother murmurs with a tired smile. “They don’t look good, Gabriel. The Ban had a disastrous effect on our tax income, and Gadreel and I have only just scratched the surface.”

Gabriel blinks. “That was never discussed in Council meetings.”

“I know,” Michael mutters, his lips a thin line now. “We’re still in the process of pulling the old transcripts from the archives to check, but it appears a lot of things were not brought up when they should have been.”

Gabriel studies his brother’s face for a moment, then shakes his head.

“You’re exhausted. This can wait, I’m coming back tomorrow.”

He moves to stand, but Michael still has a hand on his shoulder, and he puts gentle pressure on that hand now to keep Gabriel seated.

“Nonsense,” he tells his younger brother, “I will always have time for my siblings, Gabriel. What’s on your mind, hm?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath. “The Ban, actually,” he admits. “Michael, I may have never considered the tax problems the Ban caused, but I can tell you how many other problems it caused with our people, starting with almost half of them either on the run or incarcerated. We… _you_ need to lift that Ban, Michael, as soon as possible.”

Michael bites his lip as Gabriel speaks. “How bad is it, Gabriel?”

“Bad,” Gabriel tells him flatly. “We’re sitting on a powder keg, Michael. I didn’t even know about the taxes, that’s even more powder in that keg.”

He glances down at the papers on Michael’s desk, then up into his brother’s face again. “I think we’re lucky no one has lit that fuse yet. All it needs is a single spark, and we could face a revolt.”

Michael curses, rubbing both hands over his face. “Damn.”

“Lift the Ban, Michael,” Gabriel urges. “You’re King now, you have the power to undo that folly!”

“I don’t,” Michael murmurs, his face still hidden in his hands. “That’s just it, Gabriel. Until I’m officially crowned, including everyone swearing fealty to me, I can’t just pass a decree on my own. And even if we could gain a majority for that among the Council without endless discussion of the matter, I can’t call for a vote.”

Gabriel stares. “What?”

“Mourning period, Gabriel.” Michael lowers his hands, blowing out a breath. “It’s an old law, one we never truly heard about because Grandfather had already passed when I was born. Four weeks of mourning, and the only way I could pass any kind of decree or law during that time period was if it was a matter of state security or life-or-death.”

Gabriel blinks. Michael looks utterly serious, and as much as Gabriel wants to believe he’s just citing obscure tradition because he secretly doesn’t _want_ to lift the Ban – he knows his oldest brother. Michael’s not lying.

“It is a matter of national security, though,” he whispers through numb lips.

“I need proof for that,” Michael tells him tiredly. “No proof – and I might just as well hand the crown over to Raphael immediately and spare the Council the trouble of calling for my deposition.”


	4. Chapter Three - Many Arrivals

_Raphael – Day Four_

As is custom, Raphael begins the construction of his father’s pyre himself, three hours before the first light of dawn appears. It doesn’t take long for the first people to approach and watch, but that, too, has become custom and Raphael doesn’t allow their gaze on him to disrupt him in his work of covering the ground in a thick layer of wet earth. Jessica is present, and when the earth is laid out and has been made into a smooth surface, she is the one to hand him the first deep bowl of herbs.

Raphael is glad she only has a small candle with her to give off light. The pale, cool light of the stars hides the tears he doesn’t acknowledge as he works.

_Gadreel – Day Four_

Gadreel used to be a soldier before he became Michael’s aide, and he makes a point of still practicing the skills he learned. He’s still lethal with a blade and highly aware of his surroundings at all times, because it happens often enough Michael is out and about with only Gadreel for company. Their Crown Prince – their _King_ , Gadreel mentally corrects with a wince, is more than capable with a blade himself, but Gadreel considers it his duty to protect him, nonetheless.

That is the reason Gadreel notices the instant someone enters the Archives. That in itself isn’t out of the ordinary, there’s always something or other someone needs from one of the seemingly endless rows of scrolls and books – but one, it is still quite early for anyone to be up, and two, usually, people announce their presence if they notice there’s someone else in the room. Gadreel left his ornate outer robe by the reading desks at the door because he wanted to make sure it wasn’t soiled by the dust some of the older scrolls always seem to gather, and he’s gone back and forth and deposited some scrolls with them already. Not everyone might know they’re _his_ , exactly, but as Gadreel waits for someone to announce themselves and is greeted with silence, the tiny hairs at the back of his neck start to rise. He carefully picks up the ledgers and scrolls he took off the shelves and circles back around, keeping shelves between him and the aisles visible from the reading area. He’s halfway there when he hears the door fall shut just a little too heavily to be entirely silent.

Gadreel gives up on moving with stealth and hurries to where he left his robes and the first few scrolls which he thought he might need.

His robes are still there.

The scrolls are gone.

Gadreel curses.

_Michael – Day Four_

Michael did not sleep much after his conversation with Gabriel. He remained at his desk for quite some time, even after Gadreel went to bed (Michael all but ordered him to go), and when Michael finally laid down himself it was a mixture of worries and a headache that kept him awake almost until the dawn.

Back at his desk just a few hours later, the headache is still there and has been joined by a low ache in his muscles. Michael asked a servant to bring him something from the Castle apothecary to help battle what he guesses is a beginning cold and returns to the mess of scrolls and books and lists on his desk.

When the medicine arrives, he drinks it without really looking at it. The taste is a little off, and it doesn’t quite work as quickly as he remembers Raphael’s medicines do – but then again, Raphael mourns their father, too.

Michael washes the taste from his mouth with a sip of watered-down wine, makes a note to ask his brother for a stronger medicine sometime today and returns to work. The headache doesn’t lessen.

_Adam – Day Four_

Adam is exhausted and terrified as he and the other young men and women are led through the huge main gate of the capital. They need to pass through under the iron spikes of the portcullis before they can pass the heavy gates, and Adam shivers as he walks through their shadow, a sense of doom washing down his back.

There’s a steady stream of people on horseback and wagons passing through the gates and the racket they make on the cobblestones is enough to hide the clinking from the chains wrapped around Adam’s middle, which connected to the heavy iron cuffs around his neck, ankles and wrists. They are hidden beneath the cloak he’s wrapped in and make it impossible to stand up straight or run. Adam watched one young man try and run despite the hobbling chains, and then he was forced to watch as their “guards” beat him half to death.

He got sold three towns away bruises and all, and Adam just hopes the kid was bought because of the bruises and not despite. He tried to help him under cover of the night, when the traders were drinking in the taverns, but there is only so much one can do when one has no supplies. Adam never knew he was capable of such burning hatred for another human being before he was abducted and chained up like an animal.

The burly man leading them passes a heavy purse to one of the guards who studiously looks the other way as they are shuffled past, and then they’re through the gate and get dragged on towards where the market spaces are. The cuffs feel heavier than ever around Adam’s limbs, and the hatred and despair in his chest burn in equal measure.

He just wants to go home.

_Michael and Raphael – Day Four_

The pyre has grown. Raphael has been at work for hours already, and with him men and women of the Guard he handpicked for the task. All of them had had a personal connection to their King, and all of them have shed tears as they put down another layer of wood over a layer of herbs.

Raphael has just finished laying the last layer of herbs and blossoms before the pyre is finished and is now watching as his helpers carefully drape the customary white linen over wood and herbs and flowers when he notices his brother waiting beyond the double line of black pebbles embedded in the ground. No one who is not tasked with building the pyre is allowed past that line, not even the uncrowned King, but Michael is well within his rights to walk around that line and inspect the growing pyre. Raphael walks towards him to greet his brother.

Michael greets him with a nod, eyes flickering past Raphael and along the pyre, taking in the height and neat build. “You are as thorough as always, Raphael.”

“I have very good help,” Raphael murmurs, falling into step with Michael as his older brother starts walking along the line of pebbles. “We are finished as soon as the linen is draped over the pyre.”

They step out of the shadow of the Castle and to the side of the pyre that is facing the market space on the far side of the street. The construction is between them and the Guard now, and Michael stops walking, his gaze on the bustling people. “We uncovered worrying developments,” Michael tells him, his voice very quiet. Raphael stiffens, because he knows that tone of voice. “I will not speak about it here, but we need to meet and speak as soon as the pyre has burnt, Raphael.”

Raphael turns his head to look at Michael. His older brother is pale and looks exhausted and worried by equal measures, and Raphael’s stomach clenches with the thought that his suspicions about their father’s death will only add to those worries.

“I will be there,” he promises. Michael nods, but his gaze doesn’t move from whatever caught his interest in the marketplace. His bearing has changed, Raphael notices, has gone still and tense in a way he knows from the guards and soldiers he’s treated over time.

“What is it, Michael?”

“Look carefully,” Michael murmurs, still not moving his gaze. “That group of young people next to the silk shop. Do you see what I see?”

Raphael slowly lets his gaze drift over the bustling space, then to the shop Michael indicated. There is a group of young men and women huddled just beside it, all of them wearing long coats which are laced all the way to the chin and cover their feet and hands. That in itself is noteworthy given the sunny, warm day, but then one of them moves, and sunlight glints off metal. Raphael growls. “Chains.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees. “Chains. _Slavers_.”

He says it the way someone might say _cockroach_. Raphael agrees with him. The only reason a group of people would be chained in their country is if they were prisoners, and Raphael also noticed a glaring lack of soldiers or guards. “I will inform the guards,” he says and hears the fury in his own voice. Slavery has been outlawed in their kingdom for as long as people can remember.

Michael nods once, his eyes still on the cloaked slaves. “I will wait here.”

_Adam – Day Four_

He’s not quite sure how it happens. One moment, Adam is squinting against the bright sunshine and feeling as if he might melt any moment in his stifling cloak, the next moment he’s stumbling after a firm push to his back and falling to his knees because the damned chains don’t allow him to catch his balance. He’s not the only one who ends up on his knees, but at least he doesn’t have a sword at his throat when he looks up.

His heart beats hard against his ribs as he realizes what this might mean, because the slavers are all on their knees, and they all have naked blades at their throats. Adam’s fellow victims are looking around themselves with wide eyes. One of them gasps and another whispers, “that’s _Prince Michael_!”

Adam has never been to the capital before. He never had a reason to travel this far, and he didn’t have the means, either. He turns his head and looks at the two men who don’t wear the uniforms of the guards and guesses one of them must be the Crown Prince.

Everything after that happens faster and with less fuss than Adam thinks it should. One of the guards finds the keys to their shackles, and when his fall, Adam thinks he might just float up into the sky he feels so light. One of the Princes walks between them, looking at bruises and cuts, touching in a way Adam recognizes. _Healer_.

“We will bring you into the palace for now,” the man tells them. “You will have time to heal, and after you are well again, we will find ways to help you return home.”

 _Rescued by royalty_ , his overstressed mind mutters, _if that isn’t the plot of novels, I don’t know what is._

Adam manfully resists a bout of hysterical laughter.

They don’t have to walk. By the time everyone is freed, a horse cart has arrived. Gentle hands help the freed victims to climb up and settle as comfortably as possible, and Adam experiences a moment of vicious pleasure as the former slavers are led past them, now in chains themselves and looking appropriately frightened.

The infirmary of the Castle is cool and quiet, and it has _beds_. Even better yet, as Adam discovers as he carefully lays down on the bed he was shown to, they have proper wool mattresses and smooth linens.

The Healer Prince returns, having shed his ornate robes for a set of tunics that are simpler, more fitting for an infirmary. Adam watches him walk from bed to bed and work, and quietly wonders how much he could learn from someone who has such a wealth of resources at his disposal.

The Healer Prince is kind, too.

“Are you willing to tell me your name?” he asks, taking a seat on the chair beside Adam’s bed. “I am Raphael.”

“I’m Adam Your Highness,” Adam tells him, wondering if he should perhaps sit up and bow. Raphael holds up a hand as soon as he tries, tough.

“We do not adhere to any protocol in the infirmary,” the Prince says. “This is a place of healing, and I am a Healer. I have been told you tried your best to help those who fell ill or suffered an injury?”

Adam nods, relaxing back into the mattress again. His aching body approves. “I was our village’s Healer,” he admits. “Or, I was one of two who’d learned from the old Healer. I did my best, but without any supplies…”  
“You did well,” Raphael soothes. “Now let me treat you, Adam.”

And treat him he does. Every wound Adam suffered is carefully cleaned and those who need bandages are neatly wrapped. The part of him that has been tense and on constant watch for months now finally, slowly relaxes as Adam begins to understand – he’s _free._

_Lucifer and Nicholas – Day Four_

It’s late by the time a smallish group from a village arrives at the capital. The darkness and the exhaustion of city guards who have weathered a whole day of admitting a lot more people into the city than usual helps the two among them who don’t want to be recognized to slip through unnoticed.

Lucifer and Nick immediately slip away from their group as well. Should anyone recognize them, they don’t want to jeopardize the men and women who travelled with them. They slip away through still-familiar streets and into the poorer part of the capital where hard coin buys them a small room and their horses a comfortable stable.

“We don’t have much time,” Nick murmurs at Lucifer’s ear once they are alone in that tiny room. Neither of them is sure no one is trying to listen in on them, so they sit side by side on the narrow bed and whisper in each other’s ear. “Midnight?”

“Changing of the Guard,” Lucifer agrees. He wraps his arms around Nick and tugs him even closer. “We should sleep a little.”

Nick snorts and burrows into the embrace. He wraps his arms around his twin and closes his eyes. “As if either of us could sleep. Just hold me, Luci.”

Lucifer does, staring out of the tiny hole in the wall that is their window. He can’t see the sky beyond.


	5. Chapter Four - Visits In The Night

_Day Four – Adam_

It’s late and he’s exhausted, but Adam still can’t sleep. Too much happened today, too many thoughts are chasing their tails in his head. He’s still in the infirmary, along with his fellow rescued ex-slaves, but not even the even breaths of those who do sleep are able to lull him to sleep.

He looks up from the book he begged one of the nurses for (children’s tales, but better than staring at the ceiling for hours) when the door to the infirmary opens. His bed is one of the first from the door, which is why he recognizes the soft voices even before the two men walk into the room.

The Healer Prince (Raphael, Adam reminds himself) and Crown Prince Michael stop just inside the door. They talk so quietly Adam can only hear the murmur of their voices, but not the words themselves. Still, he finds he can’t quite look away from them. (Or if he’s honest with himself, from Michael. He’s always had a thing for dark hair and green eyes.)

Crown Prince Michael turns his head and meets Adam’s gaze, and Adam curses inwardly and lowers his head. It’s too late, though. He can hear fabric swish as the Crown Prince’s wide robes move with him, and then he’s standing by Adam’s bedside. “Healer Adam, am I correct?”

Adam nods and swallows. “Yes, Your Highness,” he manages.

“Are you well, Adam?” Raphael asks from his other side. When Adam chances a glance, he sees the typical assessing look of a Healer directed at him.

“I just can’t sleep,” he admits. “Too much happened today.”

The Crown Prince hums and then takes a seat on the chair. “Since you are awake, do you mind if I ask you some questions about the men who abducted you?”

Raphael makes an irritated noise, one Adam recognizes as well. Michael raises both hands. “I will not ask many questions, and I will stop as soon as it seems your patient is tired, Raphael. I know how to behave in your infirmary.”

Raphael huffs but nods. “Just a few questions, Michael. I will keep an eye.”

Crown Prince Michael waits until Raphael has walked further down the large room before turning back to Adam. “Let me begin with assuring you we will help you to return to your home as soon as the trial for your abductors has been held. It will take longer than I would prefer due to circumstances, but we will make sure it does not take too long.”

Adam nods and raises one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t… there’s no one waiting for me back home,” he admits. “My mother died years ago, and the others probably believe I’m dead. I have all the time you need to make sure these men don’t do that again.”

The Prince raises an eyebrow. “That is a generous offer. Do you remember who we took prisoner today? Did we miss anyone?”

Adam shakes his head. “They didn’t trust each other,” he says. “Always made sure if anyone was sold, they’d get their share.”

Green eyes darken in anger. “Do you remember who was sold and where?” When Adam nods, the Prince looks around, makes a triumphant noise, and goes to fetch the quill and inkpot and a piece of paper from a table. He returns, sits back down, and dips the quill into the ink. “Tell me,” he orders (or asks? His voice is too gentle for an order, but then, he _is_ the Crown Prince). “We’ll find them and free them, if the people who bought them haven’t done that already. If they did, they’ll be repaid and rewarded.”

Adam takes a deep breath and starts listing names and places. He keeps his eyes down, but even like that, he can feel Michael’s eyes on him as the Prince writes down name after name, or descriptions of places.

It’s a strange feeling, because for the first time in months, it doesn’t make Adam uncomfortable.

_Lucifer and Nicholas – Day Five_

The bells in the capital’s clock towers strike midnight as Lucifer and Nick reach one of the towering stone walls of the Castle.

They chose the side that’s as far away from the waiting pyre and its Honor Guard as possible. It’s steep, the stones smoothed and laid so neatly it’s impossible to climb up using cracks in the surface. Once upon a time, it was well-guarded nonetheless, because a Mage doesn’t need cracks in the surface. But Nick’s guess proved right, as there are no torches up on the battlements indicating someone standing guard – since there are no more Mages (or at least none who might be insane enough to try and get _into_ the Castle) this wall was apparently deemed well-guarded enough by the way it was built.

Lucifer takes a deep breath and raises his hands, shaking them out once before he moves. At several spots along the wall, thick ice forms and grows until it almost mimics stairs running up the side of the Castle wall. He and Nick pull thick, woolen socks over their boots to prevent slipping before they start the climb, slow and careful and always listening for guards or anyone else out for a midnight stroll.

No one spots them. It feels almost too easy to slip into the Castle’s interior unnoticed even with the midnight change of the guard, but this was once their home. They used to play hide and seek in these walls with their brothers.

The twins had to rely on the hope that their family still follows tradition, which would have dictated their father’s body be brought to a very specific set of rooms used solely to prepare bodies for the pyre. These rooms are located deep within the Castle where it is cool even on the hottest days of summer. Once upon a time, Ice Mages would have provided ice blocks to be laid below the table on which the wrapped body rests, but today no one is there when Nick carefully opens the door while Lucifer watches the corridor.

They don’t have much time, and they know it, but still both Lucifer and Nicholas find it impossible to step up to the table and the wrapped body resting on it for long moments. It’s still wrapped in white silk, the head covered by a simple square piece of the same fabric. The richly embroidered flag of their father is resting on another table, waiting to be used as a final shroud. It’s cold and silent in the room, and it feels very empty and too full at the same time.

Finally, Nick reaches for his twin’s hand and tangles their fingers before taking a slow step forward. Once he’s taken that first step, it feels almost as if he’s drawn closer, as if that wrapped body is true north and Nick himself the needle of a compass. He stops only when his legs are brushing the edge of the table.

“It*s the right size,” Lucifer whispers, and his voice sounds strange to Nick’s ears. He nods, but they both know there’s no other way to believe than to see their father’s face. Nick squeezes his brother’s hand once before reaching out. He hesitates once before picking the covering cloth up at the very edge to pull it off.

Neither twin is sure which of them makes the tiny, pained sound. It could be both of them.

Their father grew old over the past seven years. His brown hair is streaked liberally with white, and his beard has grey in it as well. There are a lot more lines around his eyes and mouth than there were when they last saw him.

“Da,” Nick whispers, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears. The tears in his eyes are unexpected, and they burn. He didn’t want to believe it.

Lucifer’s hand squeezes his, and Nick glances at his twin to see Lucifer is crying, too. He’s staring at their father’s face, unmoving except for the tears running down his face.

_Raphael – Day Five_

Raphael intervened when both his brother and his patient started to show signs of obvious exhaustion. He sent one to bed and brought a cup of warm tea to the other, making sure Adam was asleep before he went to check on Michael. His brother, too, was finally asleep.

Raphael himself is intending to go to bed, but he finds something is directing his steps towards the cold, quiet room where their father is resting for his final night. This late, the hallways are deserted – until they are not.

Raphael can only stare, wide-eyed. His brothers stare at him just as wide-eyed, but they react faster.

Lucifer and Nicholas turn and run.

“Lucifer!” Raphael finds himself shouting. “Nicholas! Wait!”

_Castiel – Day Five_

He is restless tonight. Castiel isn’t surprised. His task weighs heavily on his mind. Since tossing and turning in his bed is guaranteed to turn him into an even grumpier sleepless person than he is right now, he gets up and dresses again, deciding to walk the Castle’s hallways instead. The silent corridors and the act of walking usually help him calm his thoughts until he can find rest.

Tonight, that is different. Castiel recognizes Raphael’s voice, and he is close enough to hear him shout the names of his brothers – the same brothers Michael asked him to find. Castiel starts to run.

He turns the corner just in time to see Lucifer run up the stairs to the Castle’s south wall battlements after his twin and runs after them, trying to catch up. Raphael comes running out of another door and reaches the stairs just before Castiel. “Lucifer, Nicholas! Wait!”

But the twins don’t wait. It’s Nicholas who turns and gestures, and Castiel barely has time to react before water sloshes over the wall, a wave that pushes both Raphael and him back against the far side of the battlements and drenches them to the bone. He has to watch as the twins jump over the side of the battlements, hears Raphael’s horrified shout of “No!” and leaps up to run, slipping and sliding, to where he’s sure he’ll see a horrible sight.

What he sees instead is a long, gently curved ice channel leading down to the streets. In the dim firelight from the streetlamps, he can barely make out two dark forms running away and disappearing in a side street. Even as he watches, the ice melts and collapses into a puddle far below.

The twins are gone again. Castiel breathes a curse.

_Lucifer and Nicholas – Day Five_

Nick starts trembling as soon as he sits down on the narrow, hard thing that is their bed. He stares at his hands and grimaces before balling them into fists. “That was too close.”

Lucifer, still leaning with his back against the door, nods. They didn’t dare turn on the small lamp on the table, but there are no shutters in front of the tiny window. The light falling in is enough to see his expression. “They know we’re in the city now. We’ll have a hard time getting out again.”

Nick sits and looks at his twin. He doesn’t have to answer, because they both know Lucifer is right. Castiel and Raphael will tell Michael, and then there will be Castle guards at every city gate. If they want to leave, they’ll have to find another way.

Instead of mentioning any of the possibilities, Nick pushes himself to his feet and takes the two steps necessary to bring him directly in front of Lucifer. He wraps his arms around his twin’s shoulders and kisses him, a soft, chaste kiss that has Lucifer shiver, nonetheless. “Forget tomorrow,” Nick whispers against his ear, pressing closer. “We’re alive tonight, and we’re free tonight.”

Lucifer’s arms finally come to rest around Nick’s waist as he kisses him again, hungrier this time. Nick takes a step back and tugs Lucifer with him, then another until his legs press against the bed. Lucifer doesn’t let him go, which makes climbing onto the thin mattress a bit of a challenge, but Nick doesn’t want to let Lucifer go, either.

It was too close tonight.

There is a hint of desperation in Lucifer’s touch at first as he starts working on Nick’s clothes, almost yanking at them. He calms a little once he’s divested him of his cloak and tunic. Nick growls into the kiss and tugs at Lucifer’s tunic.

“Off,” he demands when Lucifer pulls back, breathing hard. His twin doesn’t say anything, just sits up to get rid of his clothes as fast as he can. Nick decides that’s a good idea and sits up too, unlacing boots and opening belts to get naked. The moment he’s stretched out on his back again, he has his twin cradled between his thighs, warm and whole and more than welcome. Nick arches up into Lucifer with a hungry little sound, then gasps as his twin ducks down to lick and suck at his nipples. “Luci!”

Lucifer hums but doesn’t stop, playing first with one sensitive nub, then the other until Nick is writhing beneath him and pulling at Lucifer’s hair. He succeeds in making Lucifer let go of the sensitive nipples and tugs him back up for another kiss. “I need you, Luci,” he whispers after, rocking his hips up in emphasis. “Please.”

Lucifer groans and kisses him again, hard and hungry. “Do we have anything?” he asks softly, running his hands up Nick’s legs.

“In my bag,” Nick tells him. He watches appreciatively as Lucifer leans over the side of the bed to reach their bags and rummage around in Nick’s. He emerges with a thick-walled little bottle full of viscous liquid and a raised eyebrow. “Always prepared, Nico?”

Nick can’t help but grin as he stretches for his lover’s enjoyment. “You know I am,” he murmurs. “Though you _could_ use that as massage oil, too.”

Lucifer chuckles and carefully unseals the lid, pouring a little of the oil over his fingers. Bottle safely set aside, he nudges Nick’s legs further apart and rubs oil-slick fingers over his entrance. “Relax for me.”

Nick complies, relaxing as Lucifer’s fingers work him open slowly. Lucifer keeps kissing him throughout, his free hand stroking Nick wherever he can reach. Nick does the same, needing to feel his love alive and warm beneath his touch. He whines softly when Lucifer pulls his fingers fee, then moans when he’s filled in a long, slow push that leaves him breathless and Lucifer as deep inside as he can go. Nick wraps his legs around Lucifer’s hips to hold him close and pulls him down for another deep, slow kiss.

Lucifer starts moving slowly, rocking into Nick as they kiss and hold each other close. They keep the slow rocking pace, keep kissing each other as Nick clings to Lucifer and is held tightly in turn. When they come, it’s almost an afterthought to the feeling of close, together, mine, _yours_ that being so intimate with each other brought.

Lucifer rests between Nick’s legs for long moments after, his face hidden in Nick’s neck. When he finally raises his head, his blue eyes are dark with emotion.

“If they come for us,” he whispers. “If Michael really has them search until they find us… I want you to run, Nico. Don’t look back, just run.”

Nick smiles and reaches up to cup Lucifer’s face with both hands. He shakes his head a little and seals Lucifer’s lips with a gentle thumb. “I’d rather die with you than live without you, Luci. Don’t ask me again, please.”

Emotions chase each other across Lucifer’s face before he finally settles on pained resignation. He doesn’t try to argue anymore, but after they clean up and curl up beneath their cloaks and the thin blanket, he tugs Nick into his arms so tightly it almost hurts.

Nick doesn’t blame him. He holds on just as tightly.


	6. Chapter Five - A Bright Fire

The gathered crowd is eerily silent. It shouldn’t be possible, Gabriel thinks absently, for so many people to be so very quiet.

Their father’s body, wrapped in silk and covered by his flag, rests on the pyre. Michael stands, tall and appearing immovable, at one side of the construction. The burning torch in his hand has Gabriel’s stomach clench hard.

That should have been his task. Before the Mage Ban, it _would_ have been his task to light the torches that would, in turn, have lit his father’s pyre. For one wild, insane moment he wants to scream, to yell, to step forward and set fire to the wood himself –

The sun creeps over the horizon, and Michael lowers his torch to the pyre. Seven of the Castle Guard follow suit, setting fire to the carefully erected construction. The insane urge to step forward and use his gift ebbs, and Gabriel does the only thing he can do to honor his father’s memory.

He lifts his flute to his lips and starts to play.

Adam knows he should be watching the pyre, bear witness to his King’s departure. He did, at first, fascinated with the height and build of the wooden construct. His mother’s pyre had been built by everyone in the village, and while it certainly was done with love, it hadn’t been done with the _precision_ this pyre was built with.

He doesn’t know quite when his gaze strayed from the pyre and settled on Michael, instead. (It feels strange to call the Crown Prince Michael, even in his head, but Adam couldn’t keep calling him Crown Prince Michael.)

It’s why he notices the man sway a little before he catches himself and stands straight again. Adam’s relatively certain no one else noticed, because everyone else is staring at the bright flames licking up the pyre – but the Healer within him takes notice. Michael didn’t seem ill yesterday evening when they talked about the slavers. He might be exhausted, Adam reasons. It was late yesterday, and they all woke very early today. But something has him ignore the burning pyre from then on. He keeps watching Michael instead. He’s a lot more interesting to Adam than the pyre of a dead King he never saw.

Hidden in the shadows at the edge of the crowd, Lucifer tugs Nick tighter into his arms as they watch the flames lick up the wood and catch on the flag. Gabriel’s melody echoes in the silence, haunting and beautiful. He didn’t want to cry, but now he can’t keep the tears from running down his cheeks.

So many what-ifs. What if they had stayed. What if they had come back earlier. What if they had talked to their father. Lucifer didn’t want to feel regret, wanted to remain angry with the man who’d outlawed the thing that defined him and Nick. Now that they watch the pyre burn, he finds he can’t find that hate anymore.

Nick stirs in his arms and rests his head on Lucifer’s shoulder. He’s crying, too, Lucifer can see the tears in the firelight. His twin doesn’t speak, but he squeezes Lucifer’s hands.

_We’ve still got us._

The brightly burning pyre represents both a step forward and, in a way, a step back in their plans, the cloaked figure muses. The King had been well under their thumb, the instances of resistance had become few and far between, and they had learned which topics to avoid and what to whisper into the King’s ear to achieve the desired result. The overdose of their little magical helper had been most unfortunate, and unintentional.

It will take time to achieve the same results with Michael, though they don’t doubt they’ll get there in time. The Prince is young, and he had stopped opposing his father’s decrees a while ago. They just need to take care of their faulty supply line first… but it may be an idea to keep the too potent mixture. Just in case the Princeling proves to be too much work, after all.

They are very careful not to let their triumphant little smile show on their face.

As is tradition, no one leaves until the pyre has burned down to ash. That ash is carefully swept up and into an urn made for that purpose, and Michael accepts it from Raphael’s hands and starts the slow procession down to the harbor. They are accompanied by torches, as dusk has long since turned into night.

Michael doesn’t look back at those who follow him until after he has poured the ashes into the water and shattered the urn. When he does finally turn, he tells himself he’s not disappointed when he doesn’t see Lucifer or Nicholas in the crowd.

Lucifer and Nick intended to make a run for it as soon as the crowd began to disperse when the pyre had burned down. They understand quickly that they have miscalculated.

Every gate they pass that is open is manned not only with the City Guards but also with at least two men of the Castle Guard. The city walls are guarded, too.

“We can’t get out,” Nick finally murmurs when they retreat back into the dark side streets. They aren’t the only ones who try to disappear there. Lucifer silently wonders if he was so blind seven years ago or if the poorer parts of the capital have since become both larger and even poorer. “Castiel and Raphael must have told Michael about last night.”

Lucifer nods. “We’ll have to lie low and wait.”

“And hope no one has the idea to put a reward out,” Nick whispers as they hurry to their tiny room. “These people are so poor, they’d sell us out for a week’s income.”

Lucifer has to agree, though he wonders if Michael knows how bad it is… and how long Nick will be right in his assessment.

Because Lucifer noticed the mutterings, the angry looks at the guards and even at his family during the time the pyre burned. There is growing unrest among the populace, and he can’t say he’s surprised. Some of these people are barely surviving, and quite a few of them have probably lost Mage family members… either to the Castle’s cells or because the Mages in question fled. And Lucifer noticed the children who are carefully hidden, their parents’ eyes watchful and angry.

Parents will do terrible things to protect their children. “Let’s hope Michael will find a morsel of reason and do the right thing,” he breathes. Nick nods.

Adam had returned to his infirmary bed, and the book of children’s tales he’d left on his nightstand. He’s a little surprised when Prince Raphael shows up late that evening, looking exhausted but offering a warm smile, nonetheless.

“How are you, Adam?”

He shrugs and glances down at the bandages around his wrists. “I think I’m as good as I can be,” he admits. “Nothing hurts too bad.”

Raphael nods. “Michael told me to find guestrooms for those of you who are well enough not to need the infirmary anymore,” he tells Adam. “I think you are one of those, would you agree?”

Adam nearly weeps with joy at the thought of privacy. He nods eagerly and follows Raphael through quiet hallways to a room that, to him, is utter luxury.

“My rooms are just one level up,” Raphael tells him, standing just inside the door and watching Adam take in the room and its furnishings. “The stairs are just at the end of the hallway. These rooms are usually intended for apprentices, but they are empty at the moment.”

Adam nods and points to the drawing of several plants hanging above the writing desk. “That explains the poisonous room decorations,” he dares to say. “I was about to wonder if that was a subtle threat.”

Raphael laughs and steps into the room, letting the door fall shut. Adam doesn’t feel the need to look for the nearest escape route, and it’s a good feeling. “No, those are leftovers from my last apprentice’s tenure in these rooms. They had trouble distinguishing between these plants.” His dark eyes flick over to Adam. “You recognize them?”

“They are common where I live,” Adam tells the other Healer, stepping closer to the drawing to take a closer look at the depicted plants. “Especially that one. We call it _Fake Yarrow_ because it looks so alike the true yarrow. I’m good at recognizing poisonous plants, and the symptoms of them, because we had them so often. I’m not that good yet with other things. Our old Healer died before we could finish our apprenticeships, so we shared duties.”

Raphael nods, his head tilted a little. “I will be very busy in the next few days,” he tells Adam, “but once all the traditions are properly upheld – if you are still here and interested – I would be honored to teach you as much as I can.”

Adam smiles, feeling warm. “I would be honored to learn from you, Healer Raphael.”

He’s starting to think being abducted by slavers was not so bad a fate after all.


	7. Chapter Six – Beginning Unrest

Michael takes just a few sips of his tea before pushing the mug aside. It tastes too bitter, must have steeped too long, but he ignores the jar of honey sitting on the tray. He hates tea sweetened by honey, even if it would probably help with the bitter taste.

He will survive a Council meeting without tea. It’s going to be a short meeting anyways, with the Mourning Period still in effect.

High Judge Anna, Chief of Finances Zachariah, Gabriel and Commander of the Castle Guard Castiel are already present. Raphael as Chief Healer and Royal Scribe Metatron are still missing, but Michael has barely sat down in his chair when the door opens and the scribe steps into the room.

“What is the meaning of a Council Session being called during the Mourning Period?” the man immediately demands. Michael raises an eyebrow, noticing Metatron is wearing his richly embroidered state robes instead of the simpler, unadorned ones everyone else opted for.

“The meaning, Scribe Metatron, is that I wish to discuss several topics that have been brought to my attention as urgent, so we may call a vote when Mourning is over and act, and not lose ourselves in endless discussions then. Take a seat, we are still waiting on Healer Raphael.”

“This is unheard of!” Metatron protests. “Prince Michael, your father’s honor demands the Mourning be observed!”

“As a matter of fact,” and Anna’s voice is silk over steel, “it is very much not unheard of. In fact, the late King Charles called the Council of his time to session during the Mourning Period for his father as well, though no votes were called in observance to tradition. Take a seat, Scribe. I assure you, were we to violate the Law of Tradition, I would speak up.”

“You may also have noticed we are not in the Council Chambers but my brother’s study,” Gabriel drawls, glaring at Metatron. His little brother has never liked the scribe, and he’s never made a secret of it. “Sit down and let’s talk like civilized people, Metatron.”

Michael’s lips try to twitch into an amused and very inappropriate smile. He sternly reminds himself of his role, then clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Take your seats, please,” he says, managing the neutral tone he was aiming for. “Raphael should arrive shortly.”

He has barely finished his sentence when the door is opened again, with a lot more force this time. It doesn’t bang against the wall only because of the heavy, leather-padded stone resting behind it to prevent just that. Raphael marches in with his Healer robes flaring and his eyes blazing. He appears angry in a way Raphael rarely gets, and Michael’s heartbeat picks up. He stands quickly, remembering the slavers all too well. “Raphael, what has happened?”

“We need to open all the city gates again, Michael!” Raphael doesn’t take care to keep his voice low, and it echoes in the room with all the power behind it he usually unleashes only when there is chaos in his domain. “The people are getting agitated, the first fights have already broken out! We can’t keep all those people cooped up in a city they aren’t at home in!”

“The controls will stay in place,” Michael informs his brother, feeling irritation rise at Raphael’s behavior. “I decided on them for good reasons and I won’t back down on that.”

Raphael glares. “Are you so desperate to see bloodshed in the city? Why won’t you let the people just leave, Michael? Nothing happened that justifies controlling every face!”

Michael can feel his spine stiffen, and Anna’s and Zachariah’s curious gazes feel almost like sandpaper against his skin. “Please leave us,” he says to them, including Metatron and Castiel in the polite order. “This is a family matter.”

His expression must be telling, because not even Metatron protests. Everyone files out past a still-glaring Raphael with varying looks of annoyance or worry. Gabriel pushes the door shut behind Anna and leans against it, glaring at both his brothers. Michael feels another spike of irritation at both his remaining siblings.

“So are you now both going to stand against me?”

“Michael, it’s not about standing against you, it’s about preventing a bloody mess in this city!” Raphael declares, running both hands through his messy black hair. “There’s not enough room to house so many people, most of them have homes and tasks to return to, and we simply do not have the provisions to keep them all fed.”

His headache has returned. Michael grimaces and reaches for the cold tea, swallowing the entire cup in the hopes it will help.

“I know they’re still in the city, Raphael. I can’t open the gates to everyone until we’ve found them.”

Gabriel draws in a sharp breath and Michael glances at him, but Raphael’s angry retort demands his attention again. “Just let them go, Michael! They jumped over the side of the damned Castle to escape from me and Castiel!”

“I _have_ to find them!” Michael growls back, his headache getting worse at a pace that frightens him. He tries to regulate his breathing, calm down. “I have to, Raphael!”  
“You’d have to chain them up inside a cell and drug them to the gills to keep them here!”

He _knows_ that, but… “Well, maybe then they’d _stay where I can see them_!”

He only realizes he’s shouted when Raphael and Gabriel both stare at him in shock. Michael never raises his voice unless there’s no other way he’ll be heard, but he did now. His throat is aching with how loud he was, and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat. His vision is wavering. His lips are numb.

Panic grips Michael, hard.

“Michael…” Raphael’s voice sounds as if it comes from far away, and Michael can’t see his brother’s lips move. His head feels as if it’s going to explode. “Michael, are you _mad_?”

Is this how you feel when you go mad? Michael has no idea, fear a hard grip around his throat – and before he can try to say another word, the world turns black.

Adam found out closed doors are not good for his mental state right now last night. He solved that problem by finding a length of rope and tying it around the door handles on both sides to make sure it won’t accidentally fall shut all the way, then propped it open with a stone.

It’s why he doesn’t fall out of his chair with a heart attack when Raphael skids into his room, wide-eyed and as disheveled as Adam has ever seen the Healer.

“I need your help!”

By the time they arrive in Michael’s rooms, Gabriel has managed to spread a blanket beneath Michael to protect him from the cold stone floor, but nothing has been moved. Adam wasn’t quite sure why Raphael had come for him, but now he gets it. The current situation is difficult enough, if word got out that Michael collapsed…

“What should I do?”

“We need to find out why,” Raphael says, sounding stressed beyond belief. “We were arguing about the situation with the city gates before he collapsed.”

Adam takes a deep breath and tries to swallow his nervousness, his fear. Raphael is too close to the situation. He’s been there before, and with that thought, that memory, his training kicks in. Adam’s heartbeat calms, his focus narrows.

“Does he have any medical conditions that could cause a collapse under stress?”

It’s Gabriel who answers, his amber gaze on Adam. “No. He’s always been healthy and used to dealing with the Council. Which is what he was doing before the argument started.”

Adam files that away and joins Gabriel on his knees. He notices the paleness of skin and lips, so different from before, and rests careful fingers against Michael’s throat. (He half expects lighting to strike him down for daring to touch the Crown Prince without asking for permission first.)

Michael’s pulse is too slow and sluggish, his skin cold and clammy. Adam frowns and leans closer to listen to him breathe, going on instinct and by his own personal routine. Michael’s breath is shallow, too, but Adam sucks in a sharp breath for other reasons. He ducks down even more, until his nose is practically hovering over Michael’s lips, and holds his breath.

 _There_.

“What did he drink?” he asks, feeling a sudden urgency in his bones. “Quickly, _what did he drink_?”

Gabriel stares, but Raphael springs into action, almost throwing himself across the room and towards the lone teacup. He hesitates before touching it, then uses his sleeve to pick it up and carry it over.

Adam doesn’t touch the cup. He doesn’t have to hold it to take a careful whiff of the tiny sip remaining.

“I know what happened,” he murmurs. “We can move him, in fact, we should. He needs to be warm. Do you have… no, they don’t grow here, and they need to be fresh. Damn.”

“Later,” Raphael says, setting the cup down again. “Are you sure we can move him?”

Adam nods, and that’s how he finds himself helping to carry Crown Prince Michael to his bed.

His life has officially gone utterly weird.

Raphael stares at the colorful depictions of the plants Adam rattled down and wants to scream.

“None of these grow around here,” he says, and his voice sounds hoarse and desperate even to his own ears. He’s never fallen so far out of his Healer calm, but this is his _brother_ they’re talking about. Michael was there when their mother died, was there when their father turned strange and distant. He supported Raphael’s wish to become a Healer. If he fails to help him now…

“They grow a little further south,” Adam tells them. “They grow all around the village where I come from, as do the plants used to make that poison. They are pretty alike to plants we use for making pain remedies, and sometimes there are accidents.”

Even as he thinks that Adam’s village is too far, Raphael notices Gabriel sit up straight.

“Show me those,” his younger brother demands, reaching for the books. Raphael turns them over to Gabriel, who looks at them carefully for a moment before nodding.

“They grow by Kali’s hometown, too,” he says with certainty. “I’ve seen them when we visited.”

Raphael glances at Adam, who looks just a little doubtful, then back to Gabriel, who is pale but determined. “Are you sure you could tell them apart and bring back the right plants?”

Gabriel nods. “I’ll take the book and make sure,” he promises, “but I’m an artist, Rapha. I know how to spot differences.”

There is a reason Raphael is a Healer, not a politician. He hates having to judge people’s abilities in something he himself isn’t good at, but with Michael unconscious and Lucifer and Nicholas hiding somewhere, he is the eldest.

“Take a fast horse,” he says, and watches Gabriel’s shoulders set into a determined line, his baby brother taking strength from his acceptance of his word. “Travel in disguise and don’t tell anyone who you need the herbs for. I will let everyone believe Michael has caught a simple cold and I, as the overprotective Healer brother, have ordered him to stay in his rooms for a few days to recover.”

Gabriel nods and carefully marks the relevant pages in the book before closing it. “I will be as fast as possible,” he tells them before striding out of the room. Raphael takes a deep breath and makes another decision.

“Look after him, Adam,” he says. The younger man’s eyes widen. “You know the disease, so to speak. I need to keep up appearances, but I would feel a lot better if I knew that someone whom I could trust was with him. We do not know who poisoned the tea yet.”

Adam swallows and looks him straight in the eye. “I would be a good suspect because I know the plants.”

Raphael shakes his head. “Michael freed you from slavers, and you literally would gain nothing from his death. You could have led us astray when it was obvious that we did not know what caused his collapse. You didn’t, and I stand by my decision that you are best equipped in looking after him until we can administer the antidote.”

A blush spreads over Adam’s pale cheeks, and his eyes are still a little wide. He nods despite that, sitting a little straighter. “Then I will do as you say, Healer Raphael.”

Raphael breathes out, tension leaving his shoulders for a moment with the knowledge that his brother is in capable hands. Then he pulls himself up again and manages to find a smile somewhere. “Wish me luck in pretending all is well, then.”

“It will be,” Adam says. He sounds surprisingly certain. “All will be well. We just have to believe it with everything we have.”

The Apothecary is humming under his breath as he walks home from his little shop. With all the people in the city, he has been doing good business with the more respectable products he offers, and his purse is heavy with coin. He should be able to buy himself a pretty companion for the night.

He’s almost reached the streets with their red lampions where the men and women offer their services when he’s grabbed unexpectedly by the arm and dragged into the narrow path between two houses. It’s pitch-black dark here without the light from the streetlamps and he needs a moment to get used to the gloom. When he does, and recognizes the hooded cloak his would-be assailant wears, his heart calms its frantic pace.

“Good evening to you,” he murmurs. “If you had need of my services, you _could_ have contacted me the usual way instead of giving me such a fright.”

There’s mild reproach in his voice because, really, they are civilized men who have no need to meet like this. The back alley leading to his shop is dark and only frequented by him and the lady who owns the tailor shop next door, and it has served perfectly well for their business meetings before.

However, his business partner offers no apology or explanation. Indeed, he doesn’t even loosen his grip on the Apothecary’s arm, not even when he shrugs his shoulders to alert him to it. The Apothecary’s heart starts beating faster again as his instincts tell him this is not going by their usual script.

“The merchandise you sold me last time we met turned out to be not at all what I asked for, Apothecary,” his business partner informs him. “I used the usual dosage, and it did not work at all. My suggestions went unheeded, and a second dose ended up killing the recipient.”

The Apothecary blinks as his thoughts start to race. “That should not be possible,” he breathes. “The necessary ingredients were measured as carefully as always.”

“I do not believe that to be the case,” his customer growls. “Because I chose another recipient, and he did not respond favorably to my suggestions, either. You lied to me, Apothecary, and I do not make it a habit to be scammed.”

The Apothecary wants to protest, wants to claim that his supplier must have brought him the wrong ingredients, but that is when his thoughts catch up with the information he was provided.

He always knew his customer was using the special “spice” to influence the opinions of someone in a position of power and had assumed it to be someone on the King’s Council so votes would be in his favor.

But there were no recent deaths on the Council. There was only the death of King Charles.

“You killed our King!” he whispers, horrified. His business partner snorts.

“That took you quite some time to figure out. Too bad the knowledge won’t help you anymore.”

The Apothecary wants to scream, to free himself and run into the street and shout the truth to everyone who can hear – but he doesn’t get the chance. The blade is cold against his neck, and even as he gasps for breath that won’t come, hot blood spilling down his front, he has a final, desperate thought.

_Forgive me, my King. I did not know._


	8. Chapter Seven – Questions Without Answers

Kali takes a deep breath when she finally dons her dark cloak and pulls up the hood to hide her features.

Gabriel told her what happened to Michael, swearing her to secrecy before he left in a hurry to try and find the plants that might save his brother’s life. Kali swore she would not breathe a word to anyone, but after Gabriel left her alone with her thoughts, she realized Michael will not open the city’s gates until he has seen his brothers. The potential for violence is already brewing in the streets, and Kali finally decided she had to do something.

So now she is sneaking through dark hallways and into the city. It won’t be easy, but she has to find the twins and convince them to meet with their brothers.

How exactly she will do that, well, Kali hopes she will know once she has found Lucifer and Nicholas.

Nick jerks when there’s a knock on the door, then relaxes when more knocks sound in the pattern they agreed on for today. He hurriedly removes the heavy ice bolts he’d magicked across the door after Lucifer left and pulls it open so his twin can slip into their room.

Lucifer hugs him tightly as soon as the door is closed again, and Nick hugs back with just as much strength. He argued against Lucifer venturing into the streets alone but finally had to admit that a single man was less suspicious when the Guard was searching for two men.

Lucifer moves them over to their hard, narrow bed and sinks down with Nick still in his arms. He looks exhausted, and Nick runs gentle fingers over the bruised-looking skin beneath his eyes. “No good news?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “The gates are still heavily guarded, and they do thorough controls on everyone leaving the city. We won’t be able to slip past, and it’s the Castle Guard who has an eye on things now. No bribing someone to let us slip out either.”

Nick sighs, playing with the fastenings of Lucifer’s cloak. “We can wait a few more nights,” he murmurs. “Maybe the weather will change and bring fog, and we can slip down to the harbor and disappear downriver.”

Lucifer hums agreement and shifts a little to get at the bag on his belt. “I brought your favorite,” he tells Nick, bringing out two wrapped pastries. He laughs when Nick hugs him again.

“Maybe someone will make him see reason,” Nick murmurs while Lucifer breaks open the first pastry to reveal the still slightly-warm filling.

“Maybe,” Lucifer agrees, holding up a bit of warm meat and dough for Nick to eat. Nick smiles and leans in to carefully lick it off Lucifer’s fingers. His twin’s gaze darkens. “Tease.”

“That’s unfair,” Nick purrs. “I plan to deliver.”

“Do you now,” Lucifer murmurs, scooping up more of the pastry. Nick nods and takes the bite with careful teeth, then licks Lucifer’s fingers clean before he holds up a bite to his twin.

Eaten this way, the pastries are consumed at a slower pace, especially when Lucifer starts stealing teasing kisses between bites. They barely finish their meal before he’s working on the fastenings of Nick’s clothes.

Clothes are pushed out of the way, used for further warmth and comfort. Nick pushes Lucifer down onto that nest, kissing him long and slow as he does. When he starts to make his way downward with gentle, sucking kisses to Lucifer’s throat and chest, his twin moans and buries his hands in Nick’s hair.

Nick takes his sweet time once he’s settled between Lucifer’s legs. He licks along his lover’s hard cock teasingly until Lucifer is moaning and whispering soft pleas. Taking him into his mouth always makes Nick feel powerful, able to give his lover such pleasure. Lucifer arches beneath him, his fingers pulling on Nick’s hair as he hisses curses and pleas and Nick decides he’s teased him enough and starts moving his head, sucking on the hard flesh in his mouth. Lucifer moans beneath him, his hands tugging on Nick’s hair with growing urgency as Nick keeps sucking and licking and teasing him. Nick doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down until Lucifer barely manages to silence his shout and comes in his mouth.

Once his lover has stopped twitching, Nick crawls back up and happily curls into Lucifer’s arms while his twin catches his breath.

“My little tease,” Lucifer finally purrs into his ear, his hands sliding down Nick’s body. “Let me return the favor.”

Warm fingers wrap around his erection, and Nick moans softly and rocks into Lucifer’s touch.

In the end, it’s pure chance Kali finds the twins in the dark hours before dawn.

At first, she thinks she may be wrong when she sees two men duck into an old barn. It has been years since she last saw them, and the light is low here where poverty is running rampant (more rampant than she realized, and she needs to talk to Gabriel about this, too) but then the light from within the barn hits their faces for a second as they duck inside, and she’s certain.

Kali takes a deep breath and slips into the barn behind them – and immediately finds herself rolling to the side to avoid the needle-sharp icicles that are suddenly stuck in the heavy wooden door where her head used to be a heartbeat earlier.

Kali swallows and looks up.

Lucifer and Nicholas stand side by side. Nicholas’ hands are raised and ringed with water that looks deceptively soft and gentle, but Kali knows better. She has seen what a Water Mage can do with a whip of accelerated water.

Lucifer’s hands have icicles drip from the fingertips. He doesn’t have his hands raised, but again, Kali has seen how fast the Ice Mage is just a moment ago. She remains kneeling and raises both hands.

“I am not here to do harm,” she announces.

“You were following us,” Lucifer accuses calmly, but his eyes flicker from Kali to the door behind her. “And unless things have changed a lot in the past day, you’re still Gabriel’s love, and thus associated with Michael.”

Gabriel. It feels underhanded, but Kali has a sudden spark of inspiration.

“I am not here for Michael, or for myself,” she promises. “In fact, were anyone to find out I am here I might face quite some trouble. I am here for Gabriel.”

A slight change in their stances, but the ice and water remain. Kali keeps talking.

“Your brother is hiding a secret,” and by the Gods of old, she hopes she isn’t making a horrible mistake in betraying Gabriel’s trust like this. “It is a secret we share, and one that would see us in the same position you are in if it were discovered.”

Nicholas’ fingers twitch, the water rippling. Kali’s heart attempts to climb into her throat. “Yet you dangle it in front of us like a carrot so we will stay and listen just a moment longer?” he asks. “How close are the Guards, Kali?”

“There are no Guards,” she protests, and then she turns one hand palm-up and lets flames lick over her fingers. “If there were, they would be taking me in, too.”

Plain shock on both twins’ faces has her hope her betrayal of Gabriel’s secret, his trust, will be worth it in the end. If they still love their baby brother – and she has no reason to suspect they don’t – they won’t throw him to the wolves. Lucifer and Nicholas were never ruthless unless one of them was threatened.

The ice melts from Lucifer’s fingers, the water slithers back into a bucket from Nicholas’ hands. Kali douses her fire and sits back on her heels. “Your brother needs you,” she tells them, and carefully doesn’t specify _which_ brother. “I am self-taught, and I fear I cannot help Gabriel control his talent much longer. He is more powerful than I am, and you received formal training.”

“I’m not sure where a Fire Mage’s training and a Water Mage’s training might differ or be alike,” Nicholas muses, sounding reluctant. “The more time we spend in the city, the higher chances are we will be found by someone who’s more willing to turn us in, too.”

Kali winces at the thought of rune-encrusted iron shackles binding Lucifer and Nicholas. The twins were always welcoming and accepting of her. She doesn’t want to see them brought so low.

“Gabriel or I can smuggle you out via the harbor,” she tells them. It won’t be easy and might call for some subterfuge and outright lies, but it’s possible. “He is on an errand tonight but should be back by tomorrow noon at the latest. Will you be willing to meet with us?”

Lucifer and Nicholas share a long look, and Kali once again wonders if there is more to the twins’ bond than meets the eye. In the end, it’s Lucifer who nods and Nicholas who tells her a location.

Kali slips back into the night with her heart not feeling any lighter.

Castiel is feeling restless again. He isn’t sure if it’s a result of the growing tension in the city or of the task Michael set him. He knows the twins will not be foolish enough to try and leave via one of the gates as long as the Castle Guard is stationed at every open gate, but he also knows he cannot mount a city-wide search for them.

Too many people in the city have lost relatives, friends and loved ones to the Mage Ban. The Castle Guard is tolerated for now, but it would take but a single spark to light a fuse. The results could be catastrophic.

Castiel is pondering his conundrum and pacing the hallways early that morning when he hears quick footsteps in a part of the Castle that should be deserted at this time of night. The surprise visit of the twins still fresh in his mind, Castiel turns and follows the sound.

He recognizes her despite the darkness of the corridor, his eyes adjusted from his wandering. What is Kali doing so early in the morning that requires a full cloak with a hood?

The only one aside from Raphael, Adam, Gabriel and Kali who knows the truth about Michael’s state ends up being Gadreel.

The quiet man doesn’t let Raphael’s explanation of “Michael caught a serious cold and needs to stay in bed and _not_ work!” deter him, and Raphael finally allows him in because he’s pretty certain that Gadreel wasn’t the one who poisoned Michael. If he had, they would never find out Michael’s death wasn’t completely natural.

Gadreel is shocked, then furious, then worried as Adam and Raphael quietly explain all they pieced together so far.

“Michael asked me to keep my research quiet for now,” he tells them, his worried gaze on his friend’s still form. “But now I think someone else needs to know… just in case. Because I’m sure whoever did this also knows I’ve been looking into things they don’t want to see dragged to light.”

Raphael and Adam listen to Michael’s suspicions and the results of Gadreel’s search, and while most of the legal implications go over Adam’s head – he’s never had reason to inform himself about the intricacies of the Council’s decision-making process – even he sees a lot of shady things have been going on over the years.

“That’s the work of more than one person,” Raphael concludes, his frown even deeper now. “Gadreel, by the Old Gods, what _happened_?”

Gadreel shakes his head. “We were trying to find out, but someone either covered their tracks too well or they realized what I was searching for. There are records missing,” he admits.

Adam glances at Michael again and bites his lower lip. He had hoped it had been an honest mistake at first, someone confusing their plants, but it seems it was a lot more than that. “We can’t leave him alone until we know who did this,” he murmurs.

Raphael nods. “Stay with him,” the Healer decides. “Gadreel, will you help me fetch everything we need from the infirmary?”

“Of course.”

Adam breathes a quiet sigh of relief when Gabriel arrives an hour after dawn, and a not-so-quiet one when the bag he hands over yields the correct plants. Gabriel even tied them into neat bundles and wrapped them individually.

“Thank you,” he tells the youngest Prince earnestly, and Gabriel nods and looks at Michael’s still form beneath the blankets.

“Just save my brother, Adam. We need him.”

Adam doesn’t make any promises. He has no idea how high of a dosage Michael was given, but he’s determined to give it his best attempt.

Brewing the antidote takes time and concentration. Raphael, pale and exhausted, insists on watching Adam’s process and take notes just in case he needs it again. Adam separates the plants into stems and leaves and roots, chops and measures and is incredibly grateful for the wide range of equipment he has at his disposal. It means he can prepare multiple doses without having to pause and clean his utensils in between.

“It’s bitter,” he murmurs once the brew is simmering over a small flame. “Too bitter to be taken undiluted. Do we have any tea leaves here?”

They find a box labelled “tea” in Michael’s desk, and both Healers subject the leaves to thorough scrutiny before they agree they are, indeed, dried mint plants and safe for tea-brewing.

It takes a lot of patience to get the cooled-down tea-antidote-mix into a still unconscious Michael, but both Raphael and Adam have experience with getting fluids into patients.

“Now we hope the poison dosage wasn’t too high,” Adam murmurs once the cup is empty. Long minutes pass in silence as they sit and wait, their eyes on Michael, fingers resting gently over his pulse.

It’s tiny at first, nothing more than Michael’s breath coming easier. His pulse calms beneath their fingertips, still too fast but steadier. When the Crown Prince makes a very soft noise and twitches beneath their touch as if to shake them off, Adam feels like crying in relief.

Raphael does have tears in his eyes as he looks up at Adam. “Thank you,” he breathes with a soft smile. “Thank you, Adam.”


	9. Chapter Eight – Secrets

Michael shifts in his sleep, and Adam tugs the blankets higher again to make sure he’s covered. The Crown Prince is running a slight fever as his body is fighting the last effects of the poison, and he’s sweating with it – and suffering from nightmares. He’s still too weakened to toss and turn, but not too weakened to talk in his sleep, to reach out for people who aren’t there.

At first, Adam wanted to shake Raphael awake and flee, because he feels this is nothing he should witness. But a glance at the other Healer, curled up on a small cot in Michael’s private sitting room, negated that immediately. Raphael needs to sleep, and so Adam sits at Michael’s bedside and attempts to calm him. He tries not to listen at first, but it proves impossible when Michael whispers his brothers’ names with such desperation, attempts to reach for them in his sleep. It’s not just Gabriel’s and Raphael’s names, too. The Crown Prince’s pleas for Lucifer and Nicholas to come home, to be safe, are when he is almost impossible to soothe.

Over the course of the day, Adam does his best to calm the nightmares and get Michael to rest. He keeps talking, keeps telling Michael he's safe, his brothers are safe. He talks until his throat hurts and his mouth is dry. He doesn’t even notice he’s started to call the Crown Prince by his name.

Kali hugs Gabriel and sends a silent prayer of gratitude to Gods she’s not sure she believes in anymore. “You’re back.”

“I promised I’d always come back,” Gabriel reminds her, but he’s holding her just as tightly. “You’re trembling, Kali.”

There’s open concern in Gabriel’s voice, and he’s right – she’s shaking in his arms, her prized control in tatters. It’s a miracle nothing has caught on fire yet.

“I found the twins,” she breathes into his ear, feels his hold on her tighten even more. “I found them, and they agreed to talk to you, Gabriel. Maybe they can help you with controlling it.”

“ _Kali_.” It’s a rough exhale against her neck, Gabriel still holding her so tightly. “I can’t leave the Castle right now, not with Michael so vulnerable.”

Kali breathes a soft curse. Of course Gabriel can’t just disappear in the night, be unavailable should anyone come looking. He needs to be present, be visible, to keep up the ruse of everything being fine.

“Maybe I can convince them to stay a few days longer,” she murmurs. “I’ll try.”

Gabriel nods. “Just a day or two if we’re lucky,” he whispers. “Then I’ll go talk to them.”

Michael’s whole body aches.

Adrift in that state between sleep and true wakefulness, he wonders if he fell off his horse again – but he has no memory of riding anywhere. His last memory is Raphael’s angry voice, and then… Lucifer and Nicholas were there. But no – Lucifer would never run from him in fear, would he?

“Michael?”

Raphael. He sounds so worried, and Michael wants to reassure his younger brother, tell him everything is alright. He fights his body’s lethargy and manages to open his eyes. It’s more difficult than it should be, but he opens them and looks up at his brother. His intended reassuring “I’m fine” comes out as a voiceless croak, but Raphael smiles, nonetheless.

“There you are.” His younger brother sounds incredibly relieved, and Michael frowns weakly. Was he that ill?

“We’ll explain in a moment,” Raphael soothes, and before Michael can try to ask about the _we_ part, there’s another man at his bedside, looking exhausted and just as relieved as Raphael. Michael needs a moment to place him – Adam, the young man they rescued from slavers. What is he doing in Michael’s private rooms?

“Water,” Adam murmurs, holding up a jug – and Michael realizes he’s thirsty, ravenously so. His mouth and throat feel parched.

Raphael helps him sit up and then sits behind him to keep him upright when Michael sways with dizziness. He’s too weak to even hold the cup himself, but Adam is so matter-of-fact about holding it for him that Michael remembers – Healer. It makes accepting the help a little easier.

The water helps, even if they only let him have two cups. He knows Raphael is right, doesn’t want to sick it all up again because he drank too much too fast. He leans back against the pillows they stack behind him and blinks at the two Healers now perched on his bedside. “What happened?”

His voice is still a hoarse croak, but he can speak. Michael counts it as a win.

Raphael and Adam share a glance before Adam shrugs and looks Michael in the eye. “We believe you were poisoned.”

The records are gone. He’s searched the whole length of the shelves where they were supposed to be, and they’re _gone_. He knows they were there before, because he kept making sure no one looked at them. He got called paranoid for it, but now he’s got the proof that he was right to be paranoid.

They never should have left the evidence in the scrolls and books, should have made sure the truth remained known only to them.

He retreats further into the room, back towards where the records of the previous King and his Council are kept, trying to calm down. He needs a plan for when he’s confronted, because he has a good idea who might have come and picked up this evidence. There’s only one person who might gain anything from exposing him, and if that happens… He won’t go down alone.

The words are still ringing in Michael’s ears after he’s downed more water and eaten two bowls of warm broth and slices of fresh bread. He’s still appallingly weak, but he’s able to sit up under his own strength now.

“And you are sure it wasn’t someone just… confusing medications?” he asks Adam, who’s stayed by his side the entire time. After the explanation Raphael and Adam provided, Michael feels a lot better with that. “I did ask for a headache remedy.”

Adam shakes his head, looking sympathetic. “The necessary plants for the poison don’t even grow here,” he says softly. “Raphael told me they don’t look even close to those the infirmary uses for pain remedies. And the Castle doesn’t buy from outside.”

Michael shivers and feels the irrational urge to tug the blankets higher and hide under them like a child. “Someone wanted to kill me,” he whispers.

“We’ll find them,” Adam murmurs, sounding surprisingly protective. When Michael looks up at him, the young man blushes and lowers his gaze. Michael wants to ask why that sentence sounded so familiar, that tone of voice… but before he can even begin to find the words, the door to his private rooms opens and the voices of Raphael and Gadreel carry through to his bedroom. Adam hastily leaves his perch on Michael’s bedside, and Michael frowns, because that, too, felt surprisingly familiar – but Raphael is already walking in, followed by Gadreel, and then Gadreel rushes past Raphael and does something that brings home just how narrowly he must have escaped death. Gadreel hugs him.

“I’m fine,” he promises his friend softly, and Gadreel makes a sound that might be agreement before pulling back from the embrace. He looks a little flustered, and Michael shivers at the reminder of how close he must have come to dying.

Gadreel wasn’t this shaken when Michael took an arrow to the shoulder back when they still had skirmishes with pirates coming ashore. For his friend to hug him in sight of others…

“I realize this should probably wait,” Gadreel begins, and Michael’s attention sharpens at his tone of voice. “But I’m going to risk incurring Healer Wrath and tell you all what I found because I think it ties into this situation somehow. Remember how we found those tax raises, and yet our income steadily dropped for the past seven years, Michael?”

Michael nods. “I’d thought it was because the farmers and businesses had trouble compensating for the missing Mages.”

“That’s certainly part of it, yes,” Gadreel agrees. “But I found records of the receipts farmers and businesses received for their taxes, and then records of what _actually_ went into our treasury, and the discrepancy is… almost a third at first, and in the last few years, it’s gotten closer to almost half of it.”

Michael stares at Gadreel. “When did this start?” he asks, but Gadreel only confirms his suspicions.

“Just after the Mage Ban went into effect.”

The decision to follow Kali the next time she leaves the Castle is one Castiel didn’t make lightly. He is meant to protect anyone in the Royal Family, and Kali has been with Gabriel for so long she is part of the family, even if they are not wed.

Kali is dressed in simple, unadorned clothes and her wide cloak again, and she shed all her jewelry. But Castiel doesn’t need a glint of light on metal or bright colors to track his prey, and he is too experienced to lose sight of her even in the busy streets of the better part of town.

Following her becomes more complicated when the streets get narrower and the people fewer – and poorer. Castiel hasn’t been in this part of town for quite some time, and the clear signs of actual poverty in such a big part of town worry him even as he allows more distance between Kali and him, attempting to make sure nobody notices he’s following her. The last thing he needs is someone deciding he’s intending to rob her (or worse) and tries to protect her.

Kali finally disappears in a house that has a sign proclaiming, “guest rooms” and looks a little cleaner and more well-maintained than other such houses they’ve passed, and Castiel raises an eyebrow as he follows her.

The stairwell is narrow and steep, and it has several landings from which hallways presumably lead to the guest rooms. Castiel waited long enough for Kali to already be gone from the stairs, so he has to guess where she went.

The first hallway is entirely dark and silent, no light shining out from under any door. Castiel climbs further up and spends several minutes in the second hallway, attempting to decide if Kali went into one of the four rooms that appear occupied. He doesn’t hear her voice even after minutes of listening, so he decides to risk going up higher.

The uppermost hallway is short, and only ends in a single door. Castiel takes a deep breath and very carefully walks up to it, pressing himself against the wall to the side to listen. That is Kali’s voice, barely audible through the wood. And that… Castiel curses inwardly.

Kali very nearly screams in shock when the door at her back is slammed open. It’s instinct that has her keep her reaction to a gasp, discipline that keeps her from calling fire to her hands.

Lucifer and Nicholas react far more violently than Kali. Shards of ice slam into the wall around the door and fly out into the hallway – but the man who slammed the door open has already ducked back behind the wood.

She recognized him despite her shock, and so have the twins. Lucifer glares at her before his whole attention returns to the door, icicles dripping from his fingers like claws. Nicholas turns on her, and his eyes are so alight with anger, Kali tries to take a step back. She’s stopped by the wall, reminded how tiny this room is, and raises both hands in what she hopes is a calming gesture.

“You betrayed us!” Nicholas hisses, his fingers twitching. The jug on the table shatters, water coming to his call, and Kali sucks in a breath.

“I had no idea!” she protests. “He must’ve followed me!”

“I did,” comes the deep, rough voice from behind the heavy wood of the door. “And found what I was asked to look for. Lucifer, Nicholas, please stop attacking me.”

“Or what,” Lucifer demands. “Gonna try and burn down innocent people’s houses just to watch us douse the fire?”

“No,” Castiel replies calmly, and Kali breathes a soft sigh of relief before his next words shock her to the core. “I had hoped you would come with me quietly. The people who own this establishment appear to be hard-working, honest persons. I would hate to have to arrest them and seize their possessions because they aided known fugitives.”

For a second, Kali is utterly certain Lucifer is going to throw the icicles with enough strength they’ll shatter the wooden door and kill Castiel, sees the rage burn higher in Nicholas’ eyes (she almost expects him to call fire to his hands and later calls herself a fool for that) but then Lucifer growls and the icicles drop.

“Should’ve known you’d sink low enough to threaten innocent people with harm just to get us to the Castle,” he snarls. “No honor left in anyone there, I see.”

Castiel comes out from behind the door and sets his clothes to rights again. “I’d advise you to collect your belongings,” he informs the twins, as if he didn’t hear Lucifer’s harsh words. “You won’t be coming back here.”

“No, we’ll rot in a damn cell,” Nicholas hisses. “And you’ll regret this, Kali.”

Feeling cold deep inside, Kali watches as the twins pack their meager belongings. She goes to protest when Castiel holds out two sets of the magic-suppressing cuffs, but Castiel shoots her a glare. “You have seen how dangerous they are,” he tells her as he locks the cuffs into place around Lucifer’s wrists. “I will not risk them deciding they don’t care about these people after all.”

Nicholas growls, making Castiel hesitate for a split second before he locks the cuffs into place around his wrists. “We still have our honor, Castiel. I wonder how you sleep at night, knowing how many people you dragged to a fate worse than death.”

Kali shivers at the reminder that Castiel was the one who led the Castle Guard in their task to apprehend Mages seven years ago. He’s always been polite to her since. How could she forget?


	10. Chapter Nine – A Painful Reunion

Sitting up is still exhausting, but Michael couldn’t stay in bed anymore. Raphael and Adam protested, but they helped him get dressed and walk the short distance to his desk. They even agreed to fetch Gabriel for the discussion, and now Michael stares down at the list of names he wrote down and sighs.

“I refuse to believe Anna is involved in this,” he says. “She would win nothing from having me dead. If anything, her position would be at risk because every new King – or Queen – may choose to appoint a new High Judge or even replace the whole Council.”

Raphael taps the list. “If we go by that measure, the only ones gaining from your death from the political point of view would be me or Gabriel,” he says grimly. Michael glares at his brother.

“Raphael, I will believe that you or Gabriel tried to kill me when the river flows upstream, and pigs sprout wings and fly around the towers.”

Gadreel snorts and Raphael opens his mouth to give a retort, but Michael never finds out what his brother wanted to say. There’s a harsh knock to the outer door, and before anyone can call for the person to enter or even react it is already pushed open. Michael’s annoyed words about waiting for permission die on the way to his lips when he sees who is being pushed into the room.

 _They look good_ , he thinks, feeling numb. Then his heart picks up its pace, because his younger brothers stand in his private rooms, and they are _alive and unharmed._ The sheer relief has him dizzy for a moment.

Next to step in is Castiel, looking stern and vaguely insulted, and following them is a very pale, very worried-looking Kali. Castiel pushes both doors shut behind her and turns the key in the lock, and Michael frowns – and then he notices the shackles on his brothers’ wrists.

“I never said anything about dragging them here in shackles!”

His words seem to break the spell that held everyone still. Gabriel jumps up from his seat and rushes to embrace Kali, who clings to him in a way Michael has never seen her do before. Raphael stands, too, and his usually calm brother is visibly trembling. Lucifer turns his icy gaze on Michael, and the hatred in those once-warm eyes shock him to the core.

“Castiel apparently thought we might attempt to commit regicide if we weren’t properly restrained like the criminals we are,” his brother sneers. “I’m not sure yet if he was right.”

“Undo the shackles,” Michael orders harshly. “I don’t want to see my brothers in chains in their own home!”

Castiel’s face shows how unhappy he is with that order, but he moves to unlock the shackles around first Lucifer’s, then Nicholas’ wrists. Michael tenses when the twins look at each other as soon as they’re free, but no ice or water missiles are thrown. The twins move until they have a wall at their back, looking wary and hostile.

“This isn’t our home anymore,” Nicholas says, and his voice is full of anger. “Why did you have us dragged back here at all?”

Michael stares, feeling anger rise to the surface. His heart is beating fast again, but his cheeks feel warm now. “ _Seven years_ ,” he hisses. “Seven years, not a word, not a letter, not a sign you’re alive. Are you that surprised?”

Lucifer sneers. “Maybe we didn’t want to be found.”

“YOU WERE GONE!” Michael shouts, his voice nearly breaking. “We didn’t even know if you’d left of your own free will because you ran!”

“SHOULD WE HAVE STAYED AND DIED?” Lucifer shouts back, his teeth bared like an angry wolf preparing to attack. Ice starts to drip in long icicles from his fingers. The room temperature is dropping steadily as the Ice Mage’s temper flares higher. Shock has Michael silent, and Lucifer sneers at him. “I will _always_ choose Nick over you, Mike. He’s my twin, my other half, and his safety is more important to me than this entire goddamn kingdom and everything in it. Sure, we left, because if we hadn’t, we’d have ended up in the cells downstairs. And we’d have died there.”

The ensuing silence almost rings in the enclosed space. Lucifer’s breathing hard, still poised to fend off any attack.

“I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Michael whispers finally, feeling cold. His eyes are wide in horror. “Lucifer, you are my _brothers_ , I would not…”

“You did.”

Nick’s calm voice cuts through Michael’s words like a blade. “The night we ran from here like we were some sort of _criminal_ , we passed the guard’s barracks. The Head of the Guard already had a warrant for our arrest on his desk, and that warrant held your signature, big brother.”

Michael can only shake his head, trembling. “I never...”

“ _Stop lying to us, Michael_ ,” Lucifer hisses. The icicles at his hands grow longer.

“I’m _not lying_!” Michael shouts back. “I _never_ lied to you!”

“Then why did you force us here?” Nicholas shouts, and Michael flinches back from the sheer anger his little brother radiates.

“And what did you two do to Kali?” Gabriel wants to know, and he’s raised his voice, too, glaring at his older brothers.

“ _She_ came and lied to us about wanting to help!”

“I didn’t lie!”

“Shut UP, all of you!”

Adam is trembling where he stands, the echo of his shout still ringing in the room. It worked insofar as everyone is silent now, but all eyes are on him, too. Shit.

He swallows, takes a deep breath and ignores his flaming cheeks. He deliberately holds the angry gazes of the twins.

“Your brother was unconscious all through yesterday and the night,” he says, speaking with a calm he doesn’t really feel. “He was poisoned and very ill, and not capable of ordering anyone to be forced anywhere unless you count him calling out in his nightmares. I should know, I was there. I watched my own family break apart because everyone was accusing everyone else of all kinds of things and nobody paused to listen. I refuse to watch it happen again. So listen. Now.”

The silence continues, and Adam can feel Michael’s stare on him now, too, but he keeps his eyes on Lucifer and Nicholas. It’s why he can see the moment his words really reach the twins. Lucifer’s shoulders relax, his hands sink down. Nicholas turns his head to stare at Michael.

“…poisoned?” he asks quietly. “What the hell?”

“We were trying to work that out, ourselves,” Gadreel says dryly. Adam twitches a little at the calm voice from directly behind him but doesn’t turn because he might die of shame if he looks at anyone else right now.

“I really just wanted to help,” Kali whispers from where she’s tucked under Gabriel’s arm. Adam hasn’t met her before, but she sounds miserable. “I had no idea Castiel would follow me.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrow, but it’s Nicholas who speaks.

“You need to learn to be more careful,” he says, sounding as if he’s still angry. “Because now you’ve got just as much to lose here as we do, little Fire Mage.”

Lucifer catches Kali’s shocked full-body jerk from the corner of his eye, but he’s more concerned with Michael. Now that he’s not quite so furious, he did notice how pale his older brother is – and now Michael sags back into his chair as if his legs decided they didn’t want to support him anymore. Raphael and the young man who silenced them all with his shout immediately turn to him, but Michael raises both hands to calm them down.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he insists, “I just stood too long.”

It’s the ‘I’m fine’ that does it. Lucifer remembers his older brother say those same words over and over in the months after their mother died, when he was holding their family together with sheer stubbornness. “I’m fine,” he’d say when they dragged him out of their father’s study in the late hours of the night. “I’m fine,” he’d insist when they made him lie down with them, and then Lucifer and Nicholas would hold their older brother between them and pretend they didn’t cry into each other’s shoulders.

The ice melts, dripping from Lucifer’s fingers with little _plings_ of sound when the remains hit the stone floor. Castiel jerks but catches himself. Lucifer is more interested in the way Michael’s gaze jerks up to him immediately.

“Why did you ask Castiel to bring us here, Michael?” Lucifer asks, and his voice is suddenly very hoarse.

“I just wanted to know you’re safe,” Michael answers, and by the Old Gods, his big brother’s voice is so full of _exhaustion_ all of a sudden. Lucifer’s throat feels tight, but Michael isn’t done yet. “You’re my little brothers,” he says. “I worried about you every day you were gone, and when I thought you might be in my reach again… I just had to know you were fine, Lu.”

Seven years of anger, of believing your older brother signed the warrant for your arrest. Seven years of feeling betrayed. Lucifer knows it’s not going to be that easy to forget those… but this is the Michael he knows, the older brother who used to play hide and seek with him and Nick in the hallways, who snuck out with them and baby Raphael, and later with baby Gabriel, to go down to the river at night and watch the baby otters each year.

Lucifer takes a deep breath and shrugs his pack off his shoulders. “We’re here,” he says, and watches Michael sag in relief.

Raphael takes Castiel and Gadreel down to the kitchens for more water and whatever food they can find. No one mentions the poisoning, but Michael is certain everyone thinks about it. The kettle is set up to brew in the fireplace and Raphael makes certain everyone eats at least one helping of the stew they brought back from the kitchen before he allows any further discussion.

Michael has to admit he feels better after eating, and his oldest younger brothers and Kali look better, too.

“I want to make it very clear,” he says quietly once everyone is finished with their meal. “Nobody is going to be thrown into any prison cells because of a Mage status anymore. I’ll probably have to wait out the damn Mourning Period to get that Ban lifted, but it will be lifted because I never agreed with it and I still don’t understand why Father suddenly decided on it.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, but he looks more thoughtful than angry. “Was it so sudden?” he asks, sounding deep in thought. “I mean, he never said anything when we were together, but… everything happened so fast after the Ban went into effect. We barely made it out, and we bolted as soon as we realized what it meant.”

Castiel shakes his head. “There were preparations,” he says quietly. “But we all believed they were for the purpose of hunting down a rogue group of Mages. When the orders came, they were scattered at first… once we all had time to understand what had happened, it was too late.”

Michael feels cold all of a sudden, despite his warm clothes and the fire in the hearth. “Nothing of that ever passed over my desk,” he says softly. “Father never spoke to me about any of it and he should have, because back then it was part of my duties to oversee the Castle Guard’s appointed tasks. The final orders came from Father, but I was the one who wrote the single orders out and signed them before I passed them on to the Commander.”

Nobody speaks for a moment. Raphael glances at the list of names on Michael’s desk again, then shakes his head. “Uriel was Head of the Guard back then,” he says softly. “He’s dead, so we won’t have a chance to ask about who delivered that warrant Nicholas saw.”

“I still don’t understand why the Ban happened,” Adam says softly. Michael stops Lucifer’s inhale with a gentle hand on his brother’s arm, and it warms him a little when Lucifer shifts but doesn’t shake his hand off and remains silent. Adam goes on, his face thoughtful as he stares at the list. “I mean, he knew two of his sons were Mages, right?”

“He knew,” Nicholas confirms softly, and he’s starting to look intrigued. “He was so proud when we turned out to be Ice/Water Mages, because Mother was one, too. Lucifer froze his beard once on accident, and he kept laughing about it for hours.”

Michael had forgotten that, and going by the look on Lucifer’s face, so had he. Lucifer blinks hard and shakes his head.

“We tried to see a reason for years before we gave up. Everything was normal one day, then it wasn’t the next. I spoke to Father the day before the Ban was announced, and he was entirely normal. A little distracted because he said he had a bad headache, and when we were interrupted by a servant bringing him tea he forgot where we’d been in our discussion of the reports, but he didn’t say a word about Magecraft the entire time.”

Michael sees Raphael jerk around from his contemplation of the list and stare at Lucifer, but he has no idea what set his younger brother off. But Raphael’s eyes are wide, and his face is one of intense concentration. “What did you just say?”

“Father didn’t say anything about Magecraft the entire time I was there with him, and it was the better part of the morning and midday,” Lucifer repeats, frowning. Raphael makes an impatient gesture.

“Nonono, not that. The part about the headache. You said a servant brought tea.”

Lucifer nods. “Yes, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. I just remember it because he was so distracted, he forgot where we were, and I had to repeat most of a report we’d already finished. Father was always drinking tea, remember? We used to joke he needed his own beehives because he was always adding so much honey to his tea it was more syrup than tea.”

Raphael nearly jumps from his seat, seemingly too excited to sit still anymore. He starts pacing within the half-circle the chairs form around Michael’s desk, digging in his robe with one hand until he pulls out one of his small journals.

“Michael was poisoned by way of the tea he drank during that attempted Council session,” he says. “It’s one of the few habits you have that echo Father, Michael – you always request tea for Council sessions because you have to talk so much you need something to drink.”

Michael nods, trying to think back to the aborted meeting. “I remember thinking it was too bitter,” he murmurs. “I thought it had been steeped too long and didn’t want to drink it, but then we argued, and my headache got worse, and I thought it might help so I drank it in one go.”

Raphael nods, gesturing with both hands. “Adam said the antidote is too bitter to be taken undiluted,” he continues. “I bet the same goes for the poison.”

Adam nods, leaning forward in his seat. His cheeks are flushed and he’s obviously caught up in Raphael’s excited urgency. “It is,” he agrees. “It’s how we usually realize mistakes have happened in gathering plants for pain remedies. It’s so bitter you realize it on the first sip, and that’s usually not enough to have the lethal effect.”

Raphael stares at Adam, and Michael feels cold again. He can’t quite find the words, but he doesn’t have to.

“Raphael, are you trying to tell us… Father died of poison?”

Raphael nods, looking both furious and horrified. “I don’t quite know why yet, but it would fit. He was distant and distracted and his quick temper got worse and worse over the years, but he wasn’t physically ill. Nobody expected him to die.”

The sound of a mug breaking apart on the floor has them all jerk. Flames lick up Kali’s and Gabriel’s fingers (and that is a shock Michael could have lived without) and Lucifer’s fingers grow icicles again, but Adam doesn’t react to any of that. He stares at Raphael in horror.

“When did his temper flare, Raphael?” the younger Healer asks urgently, perched on the very edge of his seat as if he wants to jump up and shake the answer out of Raphael, or snatch the open journal from his hand. He doesn’t have to.

“When you questioned his decisions,” Gadreel says softly. “Or even gave the appearance you didn’t agree with them. Especially the ones that used to be utterly out of character for him.”

Castiel nods. “I learned to take my questions about orders to Michael because he would get so furious,” he murmurs. “Even when I just requested a clarification.”

Michael nods, still feeling cold and numb inside. “I learned not to question him out loud,” he says. “He threatened to disinherit me once if I didn’t stop attempting to undermine his authority and learned my place.”

Nicholas and Lucifer look shocked, and Michael remembers that it didn’t use to be that way. Their father was always open for constructive criticism of a decision, always encouraged his sons to question him and challenge him to explain. The change happened slowly, but put like this…

“It’s as if it wasn’t quite him anymore,” Michael concludes. Adam sinks back into his seat, looking pale.

“Your father wasn’t poisoned,” he says softly. “Or at least, that wasn’t the ultimate goal. Someone must have made a bad mistake. Those plants used for the poison, use them in different measurements and they produce a powerful hallucinogen. It’s very dangerous because you can get the measurements wrong and have a poison, and it’s very dangerous because it can cause damage to the brain, but sometimes it’s used regardless. It’s considered a crime where those plants grow because you can give it to people and in the right dosage, it can lead to them doing what you want. Some people use it to make someone agree to a marriage, or a contract…”

“Or to make a King agree to laws and decisions he usually wouldn’t agree to,” Lucifer whispers. “To influence him in your favor.”

Michael stares at his brother, then at the young Healer who probably saved his life. He feels sick when he realizes someone tried to do the same to him.

“It has to be someone on the Council,” Gadreel says, and he sounds just as horrified. “No one else would benefit from influencing just one person, even if it’s the King. He only has the power to overrule the Council’s decisions in matters of National Security.”

Michael twitches in surprise when Lucifer’s arm moves beneath his hand. He hadn’t even realized he was still touching him, but Lucifer doesn’t shake him off. Instead, his younger brother’s slightly cool hand wraps around his, holds it tight. Michael blinks back sudden tears and holds Lucifer’s hand just as tightly.


	11. Chapter Ten – The Board Is Set

The following morning brings more unwelcome news.

Lucifer and Nick agreed with Michael that it would be best to keep their return to the Castle as quiet as possible and slept in the second bedroom of Michael’s quarters. Everyone else went to hopefully catch a few hours of sleep and, in Raphael’s, Castiel’s and Gadreel’s case, get a little work done and keep up appearances.

The bells in the tower are just announcing Midday when the door to Michael’s quarters is pushed open after a single, harsh knock. Castiel walks in, but before Michael can even open his mouth to protest and remind Castiel that these are his private quarters, Anna marches in behind Castiel, looking like a thunderstorm waiting to happen.

Michael blinks and looks at Castiel again. The Commander of the Guard is looking as if he already ran afoul of her mood.

“High Judge Anna,” Michael says mildly, opting to be careful. Anna glares at him.

“I hope to the Old Gods Lucifer and Nicholas are not locked away somewhere,” she hisses. Michael blinks.

“How do you know they are here at all?”

“I may have made an error there,” Castiel speaks up, glancing back at Anna. “I assumed nobody would pay attention when I brought them to the Castle. It appears I was mistaken.”

“People didn’t recognize the twins, but they did see the Mage shackles on their wrists,” Anna growls. “And they recognized Castiel. The city guard has been attacked six different times today, and every time there were accusations that the Mage Hunt wasn’t going to start again if they could do anything about it. Add in the dead person that was discovered near the red lantern district and the situation within the city walls is about to get very dangerous.”

Before Michael can say anything about that, Lucifer steps out from between the bookcases. “We’re here, Anna,” he says calmly. “Close the door and sit down, we’ve got a lot of questions and not many answers right now.”

Anna stares, the wind taken right out of her sails.

They take turns explaining everything they worked out to Anna, who looks more and more furious and horrified with each new revelation. When she hears about the poisoning of Michael, she pales so fast Lucifer thinks she might faint, but Anna proves her cast-iron spine with her next sentence.

“The dead person found near the red lantern district,” she says. “He’s been identified as a pharmacist from the not-quite-desolate part of town. His neighbors say he did good work, but also had _shady visitors_ late in the evening.”

Nick stirs from where he’d leaned against Lucifer. “No one suspects a Council member when there’s a shady person visiting a shady pharmacist,” he murmurs. “Who’s currently on the Council, Michael?”

“Before Father died, it was him, me, Gabriel and Raphael in the permanent seats,” Michael tells them. “Gabriel didn’t want to, but well…”

“We’d run for the hills,” Lucifer says, and he can say it almost without bitterness. “Who else?”

“Me,” Anna says quietly, “in my role as High Judge. Zachariah is still the Chief of Finances, Castiel is present as Commander of the Castle Guard – that’s what the Head of Guard position was changed to when Uriel died,” she adds when both twins frown. “Metatron is still the Royal Scribe and was present for all meetings.”

“Zachariah is the only one who never got into arguments with Father in the Council Chamber,” Michael murmurs, looking deep in thought. Lucifer watches his older brother, wondering how many meetings Michael is going through in his head. “And with the discrepancies in the tax incomes we’ve unearthed… but Zachariah didn’t have that much access to our father. The royal finances are a family matter and overseen by me, Raphael and Gabriel right now, and the Kingdom’s finances were only discussed in Council meetings with everyone in attendance so no one can swindle money from those coffers.”

“And yet you say that exactly that happened,” Anna murmurs, her eyes resting on the many scrolls and books stacked on Michael’s desk. Lucifer just took a short glance at the most recent report before he gave up, realizing he was out of the loop for too long.

“Yes,” Michael agrees, looking over at the stack too. “But that could mean someone working for Zachariah already provided false numbers. And the tariffs and taxes were raised without Council vote, which is…”

“Which is illegal,” Anna completes for him. “But it needs the King’s signature. Could it be Zachariah was using the hallucinogen to get that signature?”

Michael shakes his head. “Father was getting increasingly distant and distracted, and his temper got worse and worse,” he says. “I think he was dosed continuously. No, maybe Zachariah benefited from the situation, but I don’t think the lazy bastard has the balls to do something like this. And he certainly wouldn’t be fit enough to sneak down into the city and kill someone who apparently fucked up.”

Anna and Castiel stare at Michael. Lucifer chuckles at their disbelieving faces.

“What, did you both forget Michael has a mouth on him when he’s angry?”

Michael blushes a little but shrugs. “I was poisoned, I think I’m allowed to be angry.”

Lucifer can only agree with that. He’s not yet over seven years of feeling betrayed by his brother and he wants to do unspeakable things to the person who poisoned him despite all that.

“Back to why I came,” Anna says after a moment, visibly pulling herself together. “I fear for the peace in our city, Michael. The Mage Ban has made the City Guard _and_ the Castle Guard highly unpopular with the people, and I’m afraid of what will happen if those who are already barely scraping by fear we might come after them based on rumors.”

Michael looks at Lucifer. “Is it really that bad?” he asks softly, visibly hoping Lucifer will tell him it isn’t. “I didn’t… Father got worse and worse, and it was all I could do to curb the worst outbursts.”

“It’s bad,” Nick tells their older brother softly. “They’re not yet living in the streets, but that’s because people still share what they can with each other. If what Gadreel found is true and they’re paying twice or three times what they should in taxes…”

“They think we’re bleeding them dry,” Michael murmurs. “And most of them probably think their friends and loved ones are dead or rotting away in some underground cell. I see why you are worried, Anna.”

Lucifer blinks, his brain caught on the second to last sentence. “What do you mean by they _think_ their loved ones are dead or in cells? Where are they, Michael?”

All eyes turn on Michael, who takes a deep breath and shrugs. “Some of them did die,” he says quietly. “The ones who tried to fight the Guards and got their hands on a weapon, I couldn’t be everywhere. But I got most of them out after the first few weeks, got them onto boats at night. I don’t know where they are now, but I gave them enough to get over the borders.”

Lucifer’s chest feels strange, and his voice isn’t quite normal when he speaks. “You got them all out?”

Michael’s face twists into something Lucifer thinks might be an attempt at a smile. “My younger brothers were Mages,” he whispers. “Did you really think I could’ve watched those people disappear in our cells just because they happened to be Mages?”

Michael was prepared for many responses, but he didn’t expect his brothers to launch themselves across the room to hug him. Between them, they squeeze him tightly enough he has trouble breathing, but he saw the tears in Lucifer’s eyes, can feel Nicholas trembling against him. He wraps an arm around each of his brothers and holds on for dear life.

Anna and Castiel look away until Lucifer finally sighs and releases him, followed by Nicholas after another tight squeeze. The younger twin kisses Michael’s cheek before he releases him, and both brothers sit down left and right to Michael. It’s a strange feeling to be sandwiched between them again after so long, but Michael finds he can’t quite stop smiling.

“So we have to do something to calm the people down until we sort through the mess we found here,” he muses. “Or… Lucifer, Nicholas, how long did you hide away in the city?”

“Just a few days,” Lucifer answers, and Nick nods. “We arrived the day before the Pyre burned, but it’s obvious to anyone who spends more than a few hours in those streets that we’re sitting on a powder keg. Mage talent isn’t something that dies out within seven years, Michael. There are children in the city who probably show first hints now, and their parents are afraid _and_ a lot of them are poor. People who stand to lose everything will react badly to more pressure.”

Michael nods, but he can’t help the wide grin that tugs on his mouth. “I have an idea,” he tells them. “We can spend all month trying to figure out if it was Zachariah or Metatron who poisoned me and we won’t get far. But whoever of the two did it, they also pushed Father to sign the Mage Ban among everything else they probably influenced him to do. Now wouldn’t you say that abolishing a Ban that has proven to be disastrous for our Kingdom overall, and is pushing our people into poverty and a possible uprising, is a matter of National Security?”

“You’ve gone insane,” Raphael protests for the fifth time, even as he’s making sure his Council robes are sitting right. “Gabriel, help me!”

“Sorry, Raphael.” Gabriel leans back in his chair and pops another grape into his mouth. “I happen to be a Mage and wholeheartedly agree with abolishing that stupid Ban.”

Raphael sighs and deflates. “I do, too… but Gadreel said records have vanished, and someone did cut that pharmacist’s throat. I’m just worrying.”

Michael walks up to his brother and rests both hands on Raphael’s shoulders. “I know,” he tells his brother. “But it needs to be done, and I’m the only one who’s in a position to do it. Trust me, Raphael. It will be fine.”

His brother still looks dubious, but nods. Michael takes a deep breath and looks at Gadreel, who’s armed with all the numbers they could find on short notice to prove the Mage Ban harmed the Kingdom and nobody benefited from it. “Are we ready?”

Gadreel squares his shoulders and draws himself up to his full height as if he’s preparing to walk into battle. “We’re ready,” he confirms.

Michael nods, and then hesitates before he can push the door to the Council chamber open. His hand is trembling where he’s reaching for the handle. He hasn’t been nervous about entering that room since the third time he walked in there.

Hands come to rest on his shoulders. “You can do it, Michael,” Nicholas murmurs into his ear. “You walked hundreds of Mages out of the cells and into freedom and safety, you can face two pompous assholes and shatter their plans.”

Nicholas always knew what he needed to hear, starting with getting him back on his horse after his first really bad fall. Michael takes another deep breath, nods and feels the hands squeeze once before they let go.

Holding his head high and followed by Gadreel, Raphael and Gabriel, Michael walks into the Council chamber.

It feels a little anticlimactic. Anna, Castiel, Zachariah and Metatron stand and bow, the first two deeper than the latter two. Apparently, Metatron has decided against kicking up a fuss again after his spectacular failure on his last attempt.

“I called a Council session because I have had several witness reports stating we might be facing a matter of National Security,” Michael begins once everyone is seated, very consciously ignoring the mug of tea waiting for him. “Let me begin by summarizing what High Judge Anna and Commander of the Guard Castiel informed me of concerning the situation of the people in the city.”

He’ll probably never drink tea in a Council session again, but as he speaks, Michael quickly realizes he will need some kind of replacement. Maybe clear water is a better idea.

“In addition to these witness reports, which I consider to be nothing but the truth as they come from trusted sources, we have uncovered evidence that shows the Mage Ban has had a continuous, negative effect on the Kingdom’s overall income as well as on the trade relations with other nations. I have asked Gadreel to compile a first, preliminary report for the past two years, but evidence points towards this negative effect having started with the Ban going into effect. Gadreel, please inform the Council of your findings.”

As Gadreel steps forward from behind Michael and sets his book and scrolls down, Michael watches Zachariah pale and start to knead his fingers in his lap. He bites his lower lip to keep in a smile and keeps an eye on the Head of Finances as Gadreel begins to explain the numbers and how he arrived at the conclusion that the Mage Ban is having a negative effect on tax and tariff incomes. They agreed not to mention the illegally raised taxes and the money that seems to have disappeared somewhere for now, but the decrease is noticeable even without adding those numbers in.

Gabriel listens to Gadreel explain his methods and rattle off numbers that even he realizes are not good and watches his fellow Councilmen. Anna is looking calm, but her eyes burn with a quiet fury. Raphael’s face is carefully arranged into a neutral expression, and Michael is wearing a very small smile.

Zachariah, on the other hand, is staring at Gadreel with wide eyes, still looking very pale. He’s stopped kneading his fingers, but now one hand is clenched in his sleeve so hard his knuckles are white.

Gabriel is about to return his attention to Gadreel when his gaze passes over Metatron, who’s jotting down the key points of Gadreel’s speech – or he should be. The quill isn’t moving quite as fast as it should, and Metatron isn’t even looking down at his page. Instead, the man is staring at Gadreel with narrowed eyes.

Gabriel blinks and turns his head just a little so he can keep looking at the scribe from the corner of his eye.

“In conclusion,” Gadreel finally says, setting down the last sheet of notes, “we have discovered that keeping up a Ban that has resulted in grave decreases in our overall income and has had a negative effect on the whole Kingdom, and the loyalty of our people, is highly dangerous towards our continued National Security. It will incite people who have suffered decreases in their personal income to rise up against the Castle due to it’s negative effect on our standing in the public eye, and due to the financial losses we will soon have difficulties in keeping the Castle Guard and the City Guard properly equipped.”

Michael’s aide steps back with that final sentence. Nobody says anything for a moment. Zachariah is looking slightly ill. Metatron, when Gabriel glances at him, is holding his quill poised above the paper, but his free hand rests on his thigh – and it is fisted tightly in his robes.

Michael stands, the movement so graceful and smooth not even Gabriel would be able to tell his brother was seriously ill just two days ago. “I did not make the decision lightly, but I do believe my Father made a mistake when he decided on the Mage Ban. I respect the sanctity of the Mourning Period, but it has been made very clear the situation is about to reach a dangerous point with people in the city believing a second Mage Hunt might begin.”

His older brother accepts the scroll Gadreel hands over and unrolls it. Gabriel sits up straighter. “I, King Michael of the Clan Shurley, declare the Ban on Magecraft to be lifted with immediate effect and cite as reason for this the overall negative effect the Ban has had in the seven years of its existence. I declare the abolishment of the Ban a matter of National Security due to the witness accounts provided by High Judge Anna and Commander of the Castle Guard Castiel. I order the Council to sign this decision or lose the right to vote.”

Gabriel barely manages to keep his fire under control, and he knows he’s smiling. He doesn’t care as he stands to walk up to the scroll and place his signature.

It’s done. His brothers can stay. Kali is free. _He_ is free.

Lucifer isn’t sure what he expected to happen. Nobody who planned for as long and as carefully as they suspect their unknown perpetrator did would be foolish enough to be goaded into immediate action in a room full of witnesses.

Instead, he and Nick watch through the tiny crack in the door as all Council members walk up and sign the declaration. Zachariah is the last one to do so, he’s visibly pale and shaky and he doesn’t look up at Michael once, but he signs.

The Council disperses soon after, Anna taking the signed declaration from Michael to announce it to the public. Castiel accompanies her, along with several members of the Castle Guard.

Zachariah almost flees the Council chamber, but it’s Metatron who catches Lucifer’s eye. The expression of anger on the man’s face is fleeting, only appears in the short moment everyone’s back is turned, but it’s intense.

Lucifer makes a mental note to keep an eye on the man, but then Metatron packs up his scribe utensils and leaves. Lucifer shares a quick look with Nick, a heated promise for _later_ , and then they storm into the Council chamber to hug their oldest brother again.

Michael laughs as he hugs them back, and when Gabriel and Raphael join the hug, Lucifer feels at home for the first time since stepping foot into the Castle.

“Let’s go celebrate,” Gabriel says, “and let me get Kali. She deserves to be part of that.”

“I’ll go get Adam,” Raphael decides. “He deserves it too, he was the one who found out what was happening.”

In the end, they all meet again in Michael’s rooms because they are the most spacious, and the “celebration” consists of eating and talking, and then Lucifer and Nicholas start teaching Gabriel little tricks that are apparently alike for both Fire- and Water-based Mages.

Michael sits and nurses his tea (brewed by Raphael) and watches his siblings and friends. The prospect of wearing the crown, being King in truth, isn’t so bleak anymore, but every time his gaze drifts to Kali and Gabriel, who sit so close they constantly brush shoulders and arms and who are so obviously parts of a whole, he’s reminded of why the second bedroom in his quarters exists.

He keeps glancing at Adam whenever he notices Kali and Gabriel’s closeness, and part of him wonders why his heart beats faster for someone he barely knows.

Their celebration of the abolishment of the Mage Ban lasts until early evening, when exhaustion catches up with them. Castiel and Anna excuse themselves, and Michael pretends he doesn’t notice Castiel walking in the opposite direction of his own quarters with the red-haired judge, but once again glances at Adam – and wonders why.

The young Healer leaves shortly after together with Raphael and Gadreel, looking utterly exhausted.

Lucifer and Nicholas stay, though Michael sent housekeeping a note to make sure the twins’ old rooms are opened and set to rights again. Nicholas shrugs when Michael mentions it.

“To be honest, I don’t want to set foot in there until it’s bright morning,” he says. “We ran in the middle of the night… I’m not sure I can stay calm if I return in the middle of the night, too.”

“Unless you want your privacy,” Lucifer adds, looking a little uncertain. Michael shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures his younger brothers immediately. “No, that’s not what I meant.” In fact, he’s glad to have them close by after all those years silently worrying.

Nicholas smiles and Lucifer nods, and they share another cup of tea in comfortable silence before the twins hug him again and go to bed.

Michael does, too, but he can’t sleep. Instead, he keeps tossing and turning until the sky outside his window is turning a lighter shade of blue again.

Finally, he gives up and tosses his blankets away to get dressed.

He needs to go see Adam, speak to him. Maybe then he’ll know why he keeps thinking about him.

The door is barely closed behind them before Lucifer finds himself with his back pressed to it, his twin pressed against his front. Nick is kissing him the next moment, hard and hungry. Lucifer moans and opens his mouth to let him in.

“We did it,” Nick breathes against his lips, his eyes very bright in the dim candle-light. “We did it, Luci!”

Lucifer can barely nod before he’s being kissed again, Nick’s hands sliding beneath his clothes with eager insistence. He doesn’t even try to stop him, instead attacks his twin’s clothes as soon as he’s free.

“We need to be quiet,” he whispers urgently between greedy kisses. “Nick…”  
“I know,” Nick agrees, stumbling backwards to the bed and pulling Lucifer with him. His twin sounds breathless and _hungry_ , his voice a low rasp that has Lucifer’s blood turn hot and his cock harden. “We’ll be quiet, but I want you, Lu.” Strong hands grab his ass and squeeze in emphasis.

Lucifer stifles his moan against Nick’s shoulder, swaying into him. It’s been a while since Nick was in a toppy mood, but now his twin is pushing him onto the bed and crawling in after him, and Lucifer bites his lower lip and reminds himself he needs to be quiet unless he wants to explain a lot to his older brother he really doesn’t want to explain.

Nick smirks and runs both hands up Lucifer’s legs, pushing them apart as he crawls up between them. Lucifer watches with bated breath as his twin lowers his head and licks teasingly along his cock. It takes all the willpower Lucifer has to keep silent while Nick licks and sucks and makes delicious little noises. His fingers dig into the blankets hard enough they ache.

His lover shows no mercy. Knees nudge Lucifer’s legs wider apart, and he has no idea where Nick hid the oil but the fingers that slide between his cheeks are slippery with it. Nick rubs insistent caresses over his entrance and licks around the head of his cock before he pushes in with one finger and sinks down Lucifer’s cock with a hungry little noise.

Lucifer nearly bites his tongue. “Nico!”

His twin pulls off and smirks at him, working him open with gentle strength. “Remember, keep it down,” he purrs, watching with hungry eyes as Lucifer squirms beneath him and tries to swallow his moans. It’s been a while and Lucifer is surprised again every time how much he loves feeling his lover work him open and fill him up.

He’s lost all track of time by the time Nick decides he’s ready and withdraws his fingers. His twin’s hands urge him to roll over onto his stomach and then pull his hips up, and Lucifer reaches for a pillow and buries his face in it because he knows he won’t be able to stay quiet otherwise. Not with Nick taking him like this.

The first push in has him moan into the pillow, slow and almost lazy but not stopping until Nick is buried inside as deep as he can go. Lucifer trembles and rocks back against him, begging with his body for more.

Nick complies, the fingers at his hips digging in harder as he starts moving. He’s still gentle at first, almost careful, and Lucifer _needs_. He grits his teeth and raises his face from the pillow.

“Harder!”

It’s a hissed plea, and Nick laughs softly and pats his hip before he’s pulled back into the next thrust and has to bury his face in his pillow again to muffle his moans. Nick gives him exactly what he asked for, fucks him hard and deep until he’s shaking and biting the pillow with the need to come.

Nick growls and leans over his back, nips at his ear. He can’t really thrust in this position, but he can grind his hips into Lucifer and of course his twin found his sweet spot. Lucifer whines and claws at the bedding.

“Come for me, big brother,” Nick whispers into his ear, his voice rough with lust. “Let me see how good it feels to be taken by me.”

Oh _fuck_. Lucifer bites the pillow harder as his body jerks, spills hot and wet onto the sheets. He dimly hears Nick’s hissed curse, then moans as hot wetness fills him up.

They end up on their sides, curled into each other as they catch their breath and share kisses that are as tender as their lovemaking was rough. Lucifer finally falls asleep with his nose buried in Nick’s neck, listening to his twin’s heartbeat.

He wakes to dawn’s first light in the sky, because Nick sits up and throws the covers back.

“Nick?” he asks on a yawn, reaching out for his twin. “Why are you up?”

“I heard the door,” Nick tells him, already throwing on clothes. “Michael left his quarters, Lucifer. _Alone_. And he did it just hours after provoking someone who’s already poisoned Father and him.”

Lucifer blinks and then hurries out of bed and into his clothes, too.


	12. Chapter Eleven – The Final Move

Michael takes his time walking through the hallways to where Adam is staying. Once he left his own quarters, he realized it’s very early and he should better have his words neatly lined up when he arrives and not waste his guest’s time with rambling and half-baked questions.

He comes to a stop in one of the smaller courtyards when he sees how dark the sky still is. Knocking on a guest’s door when it’s barely even dawn to ask questions that might be very intimate sounds like a stupid idea with that realization.

He’s almost convinced himself he should go back to bed when instinct has him turn – and scramble backwards to evade the blade aimed at his chest. He almost falls over his own feet, but the same instinct that had him turn now saves him from ending up on the cobblestones, along with all the military training he received. Heart racing, he looks up at the man wielding the blade.

Metatron’s face is distorted into a mask of rage, his teeth bared as he draws the blade back.

“You _ruined it all_!” he hisses. Spittle flies from his lips, and Michael notices the Scribe is still wearing the robes from yesterday, now rumpled and stained with ink and what looks like spilled wine. “ _Years_ , and all went well, and then you ruined it all!”

Michael blinks as everything that happened, everything he learned in the past days falls into place in his thoughts and forms a whole. “You poisoned Father,” he whispers. “You tried to poison me.”

“That damn idiot who called himself the Apothecary,” Metatron snarls. “Too stupid to work according to recipes. If he had delivered, your dear father would still do what I tell him to!”

Michael feels sick at hearing proof that his father was manipulated for _years_. Did he know? Did he have moments in which he realized what was happening?

“You killed him,” he says softly. “Both my Father and that pharmacist that was found in the city.”

“I may have overreacted,” Metatron growls. “No matter. I will find someone else who can brew what they are paid to brew. Raphael won’t take the crown, he’s too softhearted for the throne, and Gabriel is weak. He’ll be easily controlled, especially when he’s grieving for his brother.”

Michael very consciously doesn’t swallow, doesn’t look at the blade. He is unarmed, doesn’t even carry a small dagger, and curses himself for being an idiot.

“Gabriel would find out who killed me,” he whispers. “And I don’t intend to stand here and let you kill me, Metatron.”

The Scribe laughs, raising his sword. “You’re unarmed, Princeling. I may not be a warrior, but I can kill an unarmed Princeling who’s been a bloody annoyance for too long!”

The blade rises over Metatron’s head, and Michael tenses and prepares to evade it, trying to decide if he should run or charge his opponent and try to gain hold of the sword.

He doesn’t have to decide.

Metatron jerks suddenly, making a gurgling sound. His eyes widen as his mouth works soundlessly. The sword falls from his hands, clattering to the floor. Michael doesn’t lunge after it. He’s too busy staring at the tick, blood-smeared icicles protruding from Metatron’s chest.

The Scribe collapses in a heap, blood quickly spreading on the cobblestones around him. Michael stares down at him, then raises his eyes.

Lucifer and Nicholas stand in the open hallway on the other side of the courtyard. There’s still ice dripping from Nicholas’ fingers. Lucifer’s hands are tipped with ice claws, and he looks as if he was about to lunge at Metatron.

“Nick,” Michael says and is surprised at how calm he sounds. “Since when are you both Ice Mages?”

Given the fact that Metatron is very obviously dead, Michael doesn’t quite agree with Lucifer’s and Nicholas’ decision to accompany him back to his quarters, but all three of his present brothers – Raphael came to take a look at the body and declare him officially deceased – glare at him and he doesn’t want to argue with them so soon after he got the twins back, so he agrees.

“I’d ask why you were walking out there all alone, but I remember feeling safe in here,” Lucifer says as they walk back slowly. Michael bites his lower lip and nods, grateful he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse.

“You’ll feel safe in here again,” he promises softly. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Neither twin answers, but Nicholas wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders and Lucifer’s lips twitch into a short smile.

It warms Michael in a way he can’t really describe, but a part of him still feels lonely.

Before he can work up the nerve to go see Adam again, however, his duties catch up with him in the form of Gadreel and Castiel arriving.

“Zachariah is gone,” Gadreel informs him, looking as if he didn’t sleep at all last night. “Looks as if he ran in the middle of the night. His quarters are a mess, seems he tried to grab as much as he could carry, but well… apparently there was a lot. We found money, jewelry, expensive fabrics… and we haven’t even gotten past his bedroom yet.”

Michael sighs and rubs at his forehead. “So he was the one who was swindling from the coffers, but Metatron all but confessed that he was the one poisoning our Father.”

Gadreel nods, shrugging. “Zachariah and Metatron spent a lot of time together, and we haven’t managed to look into Metatron’s quarters yet. Maybe they shared their ill-gotten gains. We’ll find out, Michael.”

Michael taps his fingers on his desk and looks out the window into the courtyard. Gabriel and Lucifer are sitting in the shade while Nicholas is playing with water, obviously showing something to Gabriel. “Yes,” he agrees, “some of it. But does the rest even matter?”

Decision made, he stands and pats Gadreel on the shoulder on his way out.


	13. Chapter Twelve – The Full Picture

It turns out Zachariah hid away a lot of riches in his private quarters. They find a little more in Metatron’s, and while Gadreel gives up on ever being able to make a full record of how many the two of them swindled away, even he admits they likely found most of it in the many, many trunks hidden in Zachariah’s quarters and in the rooms he used as his office.

A lot of the money they find is immediately put to good use. Michael ropes Lucifer and Nicholas into helping him with the overall planning, and within weeks there are noticeable changes. Markets distribute food free of cost to the poorest and the poor, houses are being repaired with the contracts going to craftspersons who are based in the city or the nearest villages. Businesses that can prove they paid the higher, illegal taxes are reimbursed.

The most welcome change are the returning Mages.

The first arrive in disguise and trickle into the city, wary and ready to bolt. Once word goes out of Lucifer and Nicholas, Gabriel and Kali, the trickle becomes a steady stream of people coming home.

A month after King Charles died, a public trial is held in absentee for Metatron. It is held in the major town square because Michael wants everyone to hear the witness reports, and it takes the major part of two days until everyone has been heard.

Since Metatron is already dead and has been burnt on an unadorned pyre, they can’t sentence him in the more traditional way, but High Judge Anna has a solution. Metatron is sentenced to have his ashes not scattered to the wind or into the waters as is custom, but cast into iron and buried in a deep, unmarked grave outside the city walls. It is the worst sentence they can bestow upon one already dead, and the message it sends is enough to satisfy the people.

Zachariah remains missing, but Michael knows how fast gossip spreads in his kingdom. The former Head of Finances will not find an open door, and not even the money he stole will help him within these borders.

Gossip in the kingdom is also very interested in the young man often seen walking with the King. He’s made into a Prince from a faraway Kingdom, then a possible replacement for Zachariah or Metatron, then a Mage.

All who know the truth smile when they hear such gossip and keep their knowledge to themselves – but the Castle Guard turns a blind eye when they see the King or the young Healer sneak through the hallways late in the evening.

The gossip reaches an all-time high when the official Coronation is announced.

“Whose idea was this, again?” Lucifer asks with a sour expression, nudging at the ornate coronet on his head. Nick snorts.

“I told you we should run when Michael wore that damn smirk,” he says, but walks up to his twin to wrap his arms around him from behind. “You’re the second oldest now, Luce. Be glad Michael’s not expecting you to find a wife and procreate.”

Lucifer shudders and turns in Nick’s arms. “I’d run,” he says softly, “and take you with me. We’ve proven we don’t need all this.”

“We did,” Nick agrees and leans in for a soft kiss. “But it’s nice to be back home. And just imagine – soon enough we’ll have Gabriel’s offspring to spoil and chase through the hallways.”

Lucifer chuckles. “Think Michael’s going to find himself a wife to have offspring?”

Nick shakes his head, smirking. “I think the wagging tongues will be in for a surprise today.”

Adam tugs at his robe’s sleeve and tries to settle it more comfortably on his shoulders. He’s nervous, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

It turns out agreeing to see what might come of that strange intimacy between them has hooks attached when the other party is a King, but Michael looked so hopeful when he asked if Adam was willing to be his official partner for the Coronation Ball that he couldn’t say no.

And deep down where he won’t admit it out loud, it does feel great to be the one wearing these robes now. The youngest brother, the half-brother who never really was part of the family. The rescued would-be slave, now dressed in finery and wearing the official Healer’s emblem stitched onto the front of his robes.

“You look good,” Michael tells him gently, clearly amused. Adam looks up and smiles, nervousness forgotten as soon as he looks at his… date?

“I’m not used to these,” he says, watching as Michael walks the length of the room, elaborate robes swishing elegantly around him. He thinks he’ll need ages to learn to walk in them with such ease. “Dressing up back in our village meant wearing the clothes without stains or tears in them for most of us.”

Michael chuckles, because they’ve been over that. In fact, they spent most of the evenings one of them sneaked into the other’s room talking, getting to know each other and trying to find a reason for why Adam’s voice proved soothing in Michael’s nightmares. They haven’t found it yet, but at this point, they don’t care.

“You’ll learn,” the King tells him confidently. “I’ll teach you.”

Adam laughs and nods. “We need to go if we want to be on time.”

High Judge Anna gently settles the crown on Michael’s dark hair and steps back, smiling as Michael stands fluidly. The polished gold looks good on his head.

“Long live the King!” she declares, her voice ringing out in the central town square. It is packed with people today, and they are smiling, many of them carrying small bouquets of flowers or herbs who are believed to bring luck, health, wisdom… everything a new King needs.

The answering echo from many, many mouths is almost deafening.

“Long live the King!”


End file.
